ANI-Mitakihara-CON
by ant0nym
Summary: The day is finally here! Madoka and company get all dressed up for a weekend out. Contains some whimsical yuri, suggestive dialogue, crude humor, and a bit of language. I own nothing. This is by no means an authentic representation of any con experience, but most of all not authentically Japanese. What happens after the sun goes down? That is only for mature audiences.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: The Gathering**

**Me: AU, not at all serious, I don't own the characters and all that. Just wanted to try writing something a little whimsical.**

Sayaka walked up to the front door of the Kaname residence, a little nervously. The afternoon sun hung suspended behind her in an amazingly vivid blue sky, the faintest feathers of cirrus clouds floating high and indistinct. She covered her eyes with a white sleeved arm, squinting as the harsh rays reflected off her friend's house. Tilting her head, she glanced up at the windows of Madoka's room, but the shades had been drawn.

Today was the big day, the day she'd waited for, for so long. She pulling at the extraordinary tight-feeling pants that felt as if they were beginning to ride up, just from walking from her mother's car to the entryway of the house. She'd tried them on, managing to fit in... but hadn't really walked around in them much, aside from strutting in front of the full length mirror in her bathroom. She felt a twinge of ominous foreboding, looking down at her outfit.

Discomfort aside, she couldn't help smiling. She felt so... oldschool. That was it. A tribute to a show from before she was even born, one of the few animated shows portraying a strong female character. She'd done a project on it for a class last year, nearly failing her literature class in the process. Undaunted, she came to appreciate the show, despite the grainy, primitive animation compared to what came out today. With the pink helmet tucked under her left arm, she stepped up to the doorbell, pressing it briefly.

She waited, staring at the door. She could hear some sort of commotion coming from upstairs. Her eyebrows rose as she heard a distinctive sound of glass breaking from one of the windows above her.

She continued to stand, trying to be patient, fingering the tight collar that had begun to chafe her throat. She took a step back, looking into the windows, but the glare was too bright. She put her hand on the window beside the door that looked into the living room. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, but she thought she saw two people sitting inside, a girl wearing glasses, and a short haired boy in a leather jacket.

_What the hell?_ she thought to herself, not recognizing either. She heard the door open, and hastily stepped back onto the walkway, a sheepish look on her face as she glanced down at the expensive, exotic plants she'd accidentally trampled on.

Mr. Kaname was poking his head out the door. "Oh, hello Sayaka-san! I... ah. Interesting outfit. Are you, by any chance, a Power Ranger?" He gave her a once over, his gaze locking on the dirtied white boots. He stuck his head out the door, glancing over at the flowers beneath the window.

_Power Ranger?_ "Ah, no," Sayaka tried to laugh, but sounded like little more than a forced chuckle. "Maybe if I put on the helmet..."

Mr. Kaname gazed at the sad remnants of so many months of tireless efforts. "Oh no, not by begonias," he whispered in horror. He had created the hybrid through painstaking horticultural persistence.

Sayaka, annoyed and regretful at the same time, apologized. "I'm really sorry, I didn't see them Mr. Kaname. They were, _are _beautiful. Is Madoka ready?" she tried, taking a hesitant step to the side, as if to squeeze past the man hanging out the doorway.

Snapping out of mournful thoughts with a rueful shake of his head, Mr. Kaname smiled painfully at the blunette. "Oh, its no..." He sighed. Blinking, he looked at Sayaka more closely. "You're not the Pink Power Ranger?" he asked, stumped. There _was _something familiar...

Sayaka sighed. She ran her hands down the front of her outfit, not provocatively but to smooth the wrinkles of the clinging one-piece uniform, adjusting the pink "V" that ran across her chest. "I'm Prin-"

Tomohisa turned abruptly. "Ah, yes, Madoka is, well she's not ready yet. C-come on inside, wait in the living room." He walked away briskly, not looking back. "Some of your friends are here..." his voice faded as he turned, heading upstairs, shaking his head.

Frowning, Sayaka took off the pink helmet, patting her hair to see if it was still in place. With the gloves on, it was hard to tell. She quickly adjusted the colored oval pin on the left side of her chest, wiggled the black belt cinched tightly around her waist, and again pulled down the white pants, which had _definitely_ begun to ride up again. Noticing the dirt on her white boots, she contemplated taking them off, but it had taken some work getting into them, so she opted for wiping her feet carefully on the plush entryway rug.

She took a breath, feeling the clinging suit stretch as her lungs filled with air. She walked into the living room, nervous and excited and curious.

She was immediately confronted by a witch. "Holy shit..." she started, but trailed off, amazed. Clad in a skin-tight black latex suit, the long, raven haired figure towered over her. Looking down, Sayaka saw ridiculously spiked heels that must have added a good four inches of height. Zippers ran up from both boots, all the way up her legs. Continuing to look up, the blunette's gaze was drawn to the large bare circle of naked skin on the upper third of the the figure's chest, some kind of medallion seemingly pasted to her flesh in the middle. Her crossed arms, ending in white gloves that extended up to her elbow, had metal rings sewn along the backs. She gazed into the stark purple eyes that lay behind thick-rimmed rectangular glasses, the detached look the only thing familiar to the blunette. Her hair was put up in a crazy kind of top-knot, adding another few inches to her already extended height. The midnight black cascade flowed down behind her back.

"Wow, Akemi-san. That... that's an amazing outfit." Sayaka recognized the transfer student's costume, and was impressed at how well she pulled it off, even the glasses. "That was a sweet game..."

"Boobs aren't big enough," someone said sourly, "You haven't seen the best part, yet!" The boy, who had been lounging with his feet up on the coffee table, sat up. Sayaka's attention was still mostly on the spectacle of the coldest fish in class dressed up like some kind of... something. Male fantasy, which is exactly what those kind of games were pandering to. Still, using hair to kill things and having an arsenal of badass magical moves was pretty damn cool, even if the protagonist looked like some kind of emo Barbie.

The boy stood up. "Turn around, Ice Queen!" he snickered. His voice was vaguely familiar, but seemed artificially deep... not that it was really masculine to begin with. She glanced over, watching the boy raise a hand and twirl a finger around. Looking at his face, Sayaka felt a jolt; he was so _pretty_! She immediately felt a desire to get to know this person better. Something about him was so familiar... the eyes didn't meet hers, but something about the glint inside of the dark red irises was tickling her memory. The short, dark hair was spiked up in the front. Wearing a faded brown leather jacket, the boy didn't seem dressed up at all. Faded, torn jeans, a black shirt, a strange silver charm hanging from a necklace.

Homura turned around, revealing her outfit to be almost completely back-less. The blunette didn't know how to respond, so she settled with raising her eyebrows.

Sayaka squinted, looking at the face of the boy again. She gasped._ It couldn't be. Oh my god it is_. Then she gasped again, even louder. _Oh my GOD_-

"_What _did you do to your hair?! Damn, _Kyo_ko... y-your hair!" Kyoko's hair was chopped short, like Miley Cyrus at her shortest short. For some strange reason, Sayaka felt like she'd lost something precious, like the bunny rabbit she'd owned as a kid that had gone missing shortly after her mother had bought a cat.

Crimson eyes snapped onto the blunette's own, the glint in her stare growing hotter as she ran her eyes up and down Sayaka. Twice. Sayaka's mind clicked a few details into place. "Wha... wait a second. Are you supposed to be Dean?"

Kyoko puffed out her chest, flapping her jacket obnoxiously. "Supposed to be? Dean, ghost hunter and demon killer extraordinaire, in the flesh." She fumbled around behind her, turning to grab something from the couch. "Wait a sec, I got a... here it is." She turned around, brandishing a silver flask in one hand and what appeared to be an actual sawed-off shotgun in the other, pointed directly at Sayaka's chest. "Who are you, the Pink-assed Power Ranger?"

"Hey, whoa there! Watch it." she said, picking herself up off the floor, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk of the red-head's face. _Former _red-head, apparently; it looked a lot darker now. Almost a dirty blonde going on brown. "Don't make me blast you to pieces with my Sting Ray Missiles! I'm _not _a stupid power ranger. I'm P-"

"You completely ruined that weapon," Homura said accusingly, picking that moment to join the conversation.

"I'm not going to shoot with it, its a prop, moron!" Kyoko snarled. "Besides, it only has to shoot rock salt into ghosts at close range, so you don't need it to be accurate, know-it-all." Sayaka felt like an iteration of this argument had already occurred prior to her arrival.

Homura scoffed. "Ridiculous. What is a rock salt, exactly? Do they sell this kind of ammunition in America? Atrocious diets," she added, as if the fact related to the subject at hand, sneering.

Sayaka felt herself warming to the brewing fight, having strong opinions on the topic herself. "That's what they use to shoot ghosts, Akemi-san! They're weak against salt, so they load up their bullets and... shoot them," she finished.

"Shells. Shotguns shoot shells, Sayaka-san."

"Will you fucking shut the hell up with your stupid alliteration?! Shells, bullets, whatever! I fight monsters and I'm badass," growled Kyoko, stepping up to Homura threateningly. "I do what I have to do, and that includes beating the crap out of uppity smart-ass bi-"

"H-has anyone seen Madoka?" Sayaka asked quickly, stepping between the pair. She didn't particularly like the cold demeanor and lack of social skills that seemed to be Homura's principle personality traits, but she was Madoka's friend, a guest in the same house she herself was, and most importantly the purple-eyed girl had that scary, dead look in her eyes as she stared down at the former red-head.

Homura's eyes lost their crazed look, the black-haired girl softening at the thought of the pinkette, just as Sayaka had known she would. Having been Madoka's friend for years, the blunette felt a little protective of her diminutive, sweet Madoka-chan. She'd seen the look in the transfer student's eyes, the lingering glances, showing up at inopportune times. Far, far too often to be coincidence. And every time, Madoka fawning and smiling and blushing like a, well, like a schoolgirl. _If you just stopped encouraging her,_ she'd advised Madoka on several occasions, but the pinkette just laughed it off. Secretly, Sayaka thought her friend liked the attention this new girl had been giving her.

"No." muttered Kyoko, losing her aggressive posture as Homura turned away, glancing toward the stairs.

"She'll be down soon, I can't _wait _to see her," Homura said softly but emphatically, to herself. Sayaka and Kyoko shared a glance and a thought. _Creepy_.

_Ding_. The soft chime carried easily across the room. Sayaka glanced around, realizing someone was at the door. Probably Mami-san, she thought with a new wave of excitement. Everyone except her seemed to ignore the noise. "Ah, shouldn't we get it?"

"Not my house," Kyoko stated bluntly as she fell back down on the couch. Homura stood, staring at the staircase. Rolling her eyes, straining her ears to hear if Mr. Kaname was on his way downstairs, which he wasn't, Sayaka walked the door, opening it.

For a moment, she was literally blinded as the sun haloed the figure before her. Blinking the bright spots out of her eyes, she heard Mami-san's delightfully gentle voice. "Hello, Sayaka-chan! I'm so glad to see you! And what a cute outfit you've come up with! Lovely, and so flattering..." Stepping back, the blunette rubbed her eyes, the world slowly coming in to focus once again. Mami walked in, her shoes giving a distinctive clicking noise as she walked across the hardwood floor.

Sayaka heard two loud gasps from the living room as Mami entered. Blinking the last of the sun out of her eyes, the blunette followed, wondering what could make both the unflappable and emotionless Homura and the battle-hardened and stone-hearted Kyoko sound so _shocked_.

Mami stood, arms raised as if to say "Look at me," a cheery smile spread across her face. "What do you think?" she asked, her eyes crinkled merrily. Kyoko made a choking noise.

Two large cat ears, white with pink on the inside, poked out of Mami's elaborately curled hair, looking soft and plush from four meters away. Her broad smile was accentuated by the three lines drawn along each cheek. A white choker encircled her neck, with the words "BAD PUSSYCAT" running along her throat in metallic pink letters. Looking carefully, Sayaka noticed that the "cat" was more implied than actually spelled out.

Two white spaghetti straps ran across her shoulders, connecting with, well, pretty much nothing. A network of white mesh encased Mami's bulging chest, clung to her midriff, and rand down the entire length of her long, voluptuous legs. As if that wasn't enough, Sayaka's gaze was drawn to the missing sections around her hips, the bare patch that ran up between her legs almost to her navel. The short, white bikini bottoms were revealed for what they really were as Mami turned in a 360, exposing her back and the shoestring that seemed to run up the crack of-

"Ahhh." "Uhhhm." "I... iya."

Mami giggled. "Well, what do you think?" she repeated, inwardly pleased at her show-stopping entrance. This was a day to cut loose, after all...

Kyoko approached her, seeming hesitant. Staring. Homura wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What are you?" the transfer student asked faintly.

Mami made a provocative pose, pointing at the four square inches of fabric on her body. A tiny feline face, proclaiming "Hello!" was visible if you looked close enough. All three girls looked close enough.

"According to the rules and guidelines, I'm not sure that you can-" Homura began, with a surprisingly prim look on her face until Kyoko landed an elbow to her kidney. Her muffled scream was only partly covered up by the cross-dressing former red-head's exclamation.

"That is a bitching outfit! Holy damn, Tomoe, wow... you're gonna have to beat them off with a stick." Kyoko's eyes darted to Sayaka, noting she caught the inside joke. _Beat them off_.

Mami tittered delightedly, cheeks rosy. Sayaka laughed too, eying Homura warily as the girl rose from the ground with a pained look on her face. Kyoko, in her leather jacket, pants, and boyish boots, looked the part as she put an arm around Mami's shoulders, guiding her to the couch. Sayaka sat down next to Kyouko, feeling her outfit give her the wedgie of the century as she plopped down on the thick cushion.

"Thanks for getting the door, its a little chaotic up here at the moment," Mr. Kaname's voice echoed down from the staircase, getting louder. "My beautiful daughter, and my beautiful wife, will both be ready in about-"

Mami, the epitome of social grace, had slipped out from under Kyoko's arm and instinctively rose to greet the man who's house had been opened to her. As Tomohisa walked into view, he stopped for a moment, one leg hanging in midair. His eyes got uncomfortably wide, and then he tumbled the rest of the way down.

Mami rushed over, heeled shoes clicking across the floor, delicate eyebrows upturned with concern. Fumbling, Madoka's father tried to prop himself up, but he'd landed on his back and gotten the wind knocked out of him. He lay prone, helpless, staring up as the curvacious blonde bent over him, hands playing across his chest and head, searching for injuries.

He made a noise impossible to reproduce phonetically. The sound made when a part of the airway is clenched, like a backwards moan, the noise coming from the intake of air rather than it's expulsion.

"Oh no, you poor man! Mr. Kaname, are you alright?" The bright, golden eyes looked truly worried. "You're bleeding!"

Tomohisa got a gasping breath into his aching lungs, then another. He sat up, averting his eyes from the concerned drill-tailed blond, wheezing and pinching his nose to stop the blood that poured out of it. "I... uhb... ubstairs... gah." His mutters disappeared as he trod resolutely up the staircase once again.

Mami heard him utter a surprisingly graphic curse at the top of the stairway, and hoped he hadn't hurt his head in that fall. "Get that cute ass back over here, kitty!" Kyoko called belligerently. Mami rolled her eyes good-naturedly, smiling, secretly determined to teach the loudmouth veteran a lesson in respectful language. Sayaka just rolled her eyes.

The blonde turned back toward her on-again-off-again friend, amazed at how well she pulled off the pretty-boy look. Except for, maybe, being too pretty. "Yes, sir!" she replied playfully, striding over and sitting on Kyoko's lap as the leather-jacketed girl patted her jeans.

Sayaka rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms.

Mami's golden eyes narrowed as she felt something poke her as she sat down. "What is-" Kyoko bent over, whispering something in her ear. Sayaka caught the words "real deal" and something else about a "package," before Mami made a disgusted noise and stood up, walking over to sit on the other side of the blunette.

Sayaka couldn't help but smirk at Kyoko's frustrated expression.

"Sometimes, Kyoko..." Mami shook her head, radiating disappoint.

* * *

It was another five minutes before Madoka finally joined them. _Jingle. Jingle_. Walking down the stairs timidly, the pinkette paused. _Jingle_.

"-makes just as much sense as witches do, I mean_ come on_!"

"Preposterous. Infantile fantasy propagated by a religious hierarchy devoted to the suppression of native cul-"

"What the hell are you going on about? Monsters could be every bit as real-"

"There's no evidence, no credible witnesses, no documentation or even a shred of proof-"

"Details, details," Kyoko scoffed. She wasn't really passionate about her side of the argument, she just wanted something to argue about. "There's no 'doculation' or 'incredible witnesses' that prove witches exist, but they do. Don't they? Don't they?!" she persisted annoyingly, as Homura tried to respond.

"It's not _at all_ the same thing," the black haired girl began in a lecturing tone. Luckily, Sayaka noticed her friend standing on the stairs, and shouted out to her, hoping to end the tedious back-and-forth between Homura and Kyoko.

"Hey Mado- guh? M-Madoka, that's..." Everyone spun to look at the pinkette, Homura's long hair fanning out behind her, looking tense and ready to flee. Or pounce.

Standing on one red-booted foot, Madoka pulled at the pink ruffles of her short dress. Dark red gloves covered her hands, one of which glided up her arm to fiddle with a short, poofy sleeve that left her shoulders bare. The tight corset that encased her chest was, of course, pink. Homura was the first to notice the pink garter belt halfway up Madoka's right thigh, and the similiarily pink choker wrapped around her neck. Which was to say immediately.

Two black cat ears emerged from her thick, pink hair, and a black tail with a red ribbon and a golden bell hung behind her, poking out a slit in the back of her skirt. "I-is i-it okay?" Madoka asked, hesitant and slightly fearful. The stares her friends were giving her were not the reaction she'd envisioned. Maybe she shouldn't have let Homura-chan help her pick it out... Madoka's eyes widened as she got a view of Mami's outfit.

"M-M-Mami-san, that is q-quite the..." Pausing, blushing furiously, she turned her gaze to Homura's shiny black outfit. "Oh my..." The pinkette stood frozen as the black-haired girl embraced her tightly, pressing against her hard. Madoka grunted. "Homura-chan, is... is that a gun?" she asked, looking down.

Sayaka once again met Kyoko's eyes, and the two burst out in laughter. Mami smiled indulgently.

Homura drew back, heedless of the guffaws behind her. She pulled something from her belt, not the big double-barreled, golden filligreed fantasy pistol from the game, but a humungous, blue steel automatic pistol, gleaming and very very real. _What is up with these girls and guns_, Sayaka couldn't help wondering. "Yes, its a gun. Want to hold it?" Homura asked hopefully. Madoka shook her head, backing away.

"I... uh... like what you... did with your hair, Kyoko-san." Madoka winced visibly as she said it, feeling horrified that anyone could do that to themselves. It had been so long, and thick, and, well, _red_! With that short, spiked up hair Kyoko looked almost like she could be a boy. The pinkette smiled when she looked at Sayaka. "That looks amazing, Sayaka-chan! I know you worked so hard on making it, and you did such an excellent job, you're the prettiest princess of all!" Sayaka beamed at her friend's praise.

"White pajamas and a pink helmet. Big deal. I still don't get why you'd go as a Power-"

"If you say 'Power Ranger' one more time, _Dean_, I'll punch your damn face back to HELL!" Sayaka roared, losing control at the constant jabs.

"Ranger," Kyoko finished, enunciating the word tauntingly. "That show's racist."

"Huh?" Everyone was confused. Sayaka stopped mid-punch.

"Who's the yellow ranger? An Asian. Who's the black ranger? A black guy. Who's the pink ranger? A girl. Hmm. That makes it sexist, too..."

"Kyoko, there were like a thousand different versions of Power Rangers. DId they all follow that formula? I highly doubt it." Mami sounded like she was trying to be reasonable.

"Probably all of them. Sure. I dunno, I only remember the ones I saw when I was way little. That show sucks."

"I bet you liked the fighting," Sayaka commented innocently.

"No blood, no severed limbs... nothing like the real thing."

"But when you were a kid..."

"Well, I guess it was okay."

_Why am I defending Power Rangers_? the blunette wondered to herself. Probably just being contrary, Kyoko could really get on her nerves sometimes.

There was another crash from upstairs. Madoka felt the need to explain, given the puzzled expressions shared between the friends. "It's my mom, she's getting ready."

Another shared glance. "Um, getting ready to take us? She's giving us all a ride, right?" Sayaka asked uncertainly.

"Yes, it's just, she's, well. Dressing up," Madoka whispered, mortified. She loved her mom, who was the coolest, bestest mom in the whooooole world, but she'd seen the outfit lying on her bed this morning and had felt a hollow pit form in her stomach. "Sh-she wants to come with."

* * *

**T appropriate so far? Let me know. Also, please please try and guess who people are, and what's happening. It will be crystal clear next chapter, so now's your only chance. Kyoko might be a bit of a red herring, depending on how fanatical you are Homura as well.**

**And I feel the need to explain Power Rangers references. I realize, even if you may not, that Power Rangers was the Americanized version of a Japanese kids action show called Super Sentai, so the latter is what girls in Mitakihara would have watched. I know nothing about that show, however, so suspension of disbelief is required.**

**Also, it wasn't racist, really, just an unfortunate design decision. Blatantly, stupidly obvious perhaps, but that's the thing about retrospection.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: The Anticipatory Waiting Period**

"Come on, really? None of you? The robotic lions that come together to form the most powerful force in the universe?" Sayaka looked around, imploringly but to no avail. She unconsciously straightened the wide pink "V" across her chest. Her helmet sat on the couch, forgotten as the girls waited for Mrs. Kaname to get ready.

Blank stares. "Didn't the Power Rangers have robot animals that turned into a giant robot?" Homura asked. Her eyes were dead like always, but Sayaka knew she was just trying to twist the knife, that antisocial little-

"I _knew _you were a Power Ranger!" Kyoko crowed, extremely pleased with herself.

Sayaka sighed in frustration. She glanced at Mami, but the older girl seemed very absorbed in playing with her lush curls all of a sudden. Madoka met her eyes, at least, but merely shrugged helplessly, pulling at her short skirt. She was on her own. "It's nothing like that. Well, I guess that the five cats transformed into a giant robot and wielded this huge, awesome sword-"

"You and that sword fixation," Kyoko rolled her eyes. Twice, to make sure everyone saw.

"The Power Rangers also have robots that turn into a robot. Five, I believe. I'm pretty sure it has a sword, too," Homura added thoughtfully.

_Since when do Kyoko and Homura team up against me?_ Sayaka wondered despairingly. Either one was bad enough on her own.

"It's not... Arrg. Look, they _copied _it, alright? The Power Rangers was just, like, a rip-off of Voltron. Princess Allura was a heroine before just about any other woman, unless you count Wonder Woman or some crap like that." She wasn't exactly sure of her facts, but she had a pretty good idea none of the people she was trying to convince did either. "She took over piloting the blue lion after its previous controller died... yes, died! A show where character's actually died, actions had consequences, not some Saturday morning sugar-induced frenzy of ridiculous action sequences-"

"I remember," Kyoko began, rudely cutting off Sayaka but not really speaking to anyone specific. "The Power Rangers, they'd do this moves, like..." Leaping into the air, attempting to spin and kick and twirl all at the same time, Kyoko Dean Winchester got her leather jacket caught on a heavy armchair, and both crashed to the ground. Madoka looked on, slightly horrified, too intimidated to say anything to the older girl, but wishing so hard that she wouldn't break anythi-

"Dammit, stupid broken-ass chair," Kyoko complained, rubbing her leg. She gave the offending piece of furniture a kick for good measure with her unhurt limb, snarling as her foot connected with an up-thrust leg, snapping it off like a twig.

Mami had had enough. She adjusted the headband that her soft, white cat ears were attached to. "Kyoko, I've had just about enough of this!" She stood up, glaring at the suddenly defensive looking pretty-boy wannabe. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, using that language in a house we have been _invited _into as _guests_." She heavily emphasized the words. "And breaking that chair? You don't even apologize-"

"I was-"

"You were about to do nothing, other than stick your foot in your mouth again. Honestly." Mami's face was screwed up into a mad, pouty look.

"Honestly," copied Homura. Kyoko glowered at her, but the cold, purple eyes just stared back. The older girl had to break contact first, looking back at Mami.

"Keep your skirt on, sister. I... if that thing hadn't... the thing is, Dean doesn't apologize to _anyone_-"

Sayaka gasped. "That's so not true. Quit being a jerk. _Dean _doesn't act like an ass in other people's houses. He takes responsibility for his actions." Mami looked at the blunette as she said the "a" word, and Sayaka bit back a retort along the lines of "I might have said it but at least I'm not showing it." However, she knew from past experience that Mami did not take such talk well. And the drill-tailed blonde would make you pay. Dearly.

_Not something I want to have to go through a third time_, she thought wisely.

"Wearing that outfit does not give you the right to act like some kind of..." she bent close to Kyoko's ear, whispering, but everyone heard when she said "_tool_!" Madoka looked confused, Homura looked smug, and Sayaka was simply amazed that the leather-jacketed former red-head hadn't blown up.

"Name calling? Okay _bitch _you asked for it." Kyoko advanced while Mami drew back. Madoka gasped, hurt by the words aimed at a girl who was practically her idol. A flicker of a frown crossed her delicate features, focusing a tiny candle of anger at the mean older girl.

She was still trying to think of something to say when Mami began her own brand of chastising. "It is a fabulous outfit, by the way." She continued to back up, not fleeing exactly, but deftly weaving between furniture, away from Kyoko's outstretched arms. "Fits you so well, with that new hair. Really accentuates your, um, boyish figure."

"B-boyish-" Kyoko stopped advancing on the blonde, looking shattered. Sayaka nodded to herself, and kept silent. It didn't do any good to upset Tomoe Mami-san.

"A lot of girls would have to, you know, wear some something to flatten their chests." She twisted her waist, provocatively showing off the relevant bits. "I doubt that was a problem for you, though. I heard it can be uncomfortable for a girl to dress as a boy, hiding her, you know, shapely parts. How lucky for you!"

Kyoko's face was burning red. Glancing at the other girls, she saw Madoka and Sayaka were looking away, the cowards. Homura stared at her with those dead eyes, somehow still looking smug. Oh how she wanted to poke-

_No. That's just what Mami wants_, Kyoko fumed to herself. _Lose control again, give her another excuse to use that vicious tongue._ _Damn_, _she always knows exactly how to say the most hurtful thing_... blinking furiously, Kyoko's red glittering eyes remained on the blonde, even though she was little more than an indistinct figure wavering across a blurred field of vision.

"I... sorry, Madoka." Kyoko grunted.

"Um... I-it's okay, K-Kyoko-chan. It w-was and a-accident, I'm sure." Madoka looked rather shell-shocked, whether from seeing her mentor, her sensei, say such mean things, or from the unpretentiously selfish Kyoko's apology, however forced, was anyone's guess.

Sayaka guessed it was the first thing, since that's when Madoka's face had turned all wounded-looking and horrified. But perhaps she'd just been picturing that video of the cow being slaughtered that Sayaka had felt compelled to share with the girl. It had been during a sleepover last year. It... had been a foolish prank, she should have known. The pinkette hadn't been able to sleep for days, and couldn't eat for a week. She still refused to eat steak, and especially veal, but for some reason Sayaka knew she didn't have a problem with ground beef.

The thought made Sayaka's stomach rumble embarrassingly, and the girls laughed awkwardly, the tension gradually easing. "You're hungry, Sayaka-chan!" the pinkette observed. "I'll go grab some snacks!" Madoka offered, eager to get up and do something. She headed back into the well-appointed Kaname kitchen.

"I'll go with you!" Homura offered, bright-eyed. "I can help-"

"Don't be silly, I'll get it, you relax, most honored guests," the pinkette giggled, thinking of what to bring out. Homura sat down, looking defeated and deflated.

Mami walked over to Kyoko, putting a hand on her shoulder and speaking quietly. Sayaka couldn't eavesdrop because of Homura's repeated sighing, but she figured it was a little dose of honey to take away some of the sting of her insults. That was her usual modus operandi, at least. "What is it, Akemi-san?" the blunette asked, somewhat shortly.

Sigh. "Nothing, Miki-san." Sigh.

_Oh my god_, Sayaka thought to herself. _I'm going to be spending all weekend with these people?!_

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"So, Sayaka, I know you like Dean. No, you _love_ him. I know you wanna do him, and I just wanted you to know that tonight, he's here for you." Kyoko had cornered Sayaka on the way to the bathroom while the rest of the girls finished the multi-hued assortment of mochi.

"Huh? What, you mean _he _is gonna be there? J-"

Kyoko shook her head, the memory of her long ponytail swishing across the back of her neck whispering like a ghost in the darkness. "No. Dean. Winchester." She pointed at herself cockily, thumbs to her chest.

Sayaka burst out laughing. "Oh god you're hilarious. All sorts of problems with that scenario, genius."

"Like what?" Kyoko wondered honestly.

"Well, for one, you're not a boy, so you can't-"

_zzzzzzp._

"K-Kyoko _what the hell_?! Put that... that _thing _away! Ugh, you're _disgusting_."

"Dean always gets the girl, remember that, baby." Refastening her belt, Kyoko waggled her eyebrows. "It's the real deal, sweet thing. The total package. Princess Allura is about to get allured into the wildest night of her life."

The situation having transformed from a perceived joke to something far more uncomfortable, Sayaka began to back away nervously. "Do you even _watch _the show? He gets shot down all the time..."

"Barely ever. No one can resist his charms, those chiseled cheeks, that roguish grin," Kyoko whispered, giving her best rogueish grin as she leaned in to Sayaka, who'd backed into a wall. "Those soulful eyes..." she said, staring into the blunette's.

"Y-yes," Sayaka gulped, before she could restrain herself. "And when he cries, oooh I just want to comfort him so bad-"

"You can comfort _me_," the former red-head offered, trying to look sad and miserable, like her soul had been sent to hell, tortured for year after year until she broke down, giving in and becoming one of the bad guys, no longer being tortured but being the torturer. Memories of the hideous suffering she'd inflicted on others, memories she'd do anything to forget but no matter what she tried, they kept haunting her thoughts and dreams-

In some ways, it wasn't that much of a stretch. That didn't make her good at it, though.

"Not like _that_! Ew, Kyoko, get your filthy mind out of the gutter. Why do you look like that? Is something wrong? Did you eat spoiled food again?! I keep telling you, you can't just-"

"No, its not that." Kyoko gave up trying to look sad and tormented. "Seriously, though, you shouldn't let food go to waste," she muttered, a tad defensively. Then, in a burst of inspiration, she began to shout.

"Somebody... help me! Saaa_aaam_!"

Sayaka teared up a bit. "Oh! That was totally the saddest part, the way he was all helpless and yearning for his little brother to rescue _him_..."

"Saaa_aaam_!"

"Stop it Kyoko!" The blunette wiped at her eyes, impressed by the former red-head's impression despite herself. Her "haunted by unspeakable memories" look needed work, but her "despair-filled cry of loneliness and misery into the darkness" was spot on.

"You _know _you love him." Kyoko pressed herself against the blunette obnoxiously. "_Me_," she whispered.

"What_ever_, bitch."

"That's my line, jerk."

The two smiled, heading back out to the living room, side by side because Sayaka didn't trust this girl behind her, not for a second. Not after what she'd done that one time...

* * *

It was a bit of a spectacle when Junko finally made her way downstairs. Mami was the first to notice, and as her delicate eyebrows kept climbing up and up her forehead, Sayaka noticed and glanced at the stairway.

It was the boots she noticed first. Glossy, purple-pink boots ran all the way from Mrs. Kaname's feet to the middle of her thighs, turned over at the top. There appeared to be metallic braces or guards across the shins. Above the boots, an area of exposed skin continued up the sides of her legs, all the way past her tightly-belted waist, broken only by the pink corset that resembled a one-piece bathing suit, running from just above her generously proportioned chest down between her legs. leaving the top third of her torso exposed and sleeveless. Her long, toned arms hung at her sides, hands clad in black fingerless gloves, one holding what appeared to be a black leather jacket, the other something shiny.

She walked down the stairs slowly, a little stiffly, Sayaka noted. Aware of the attention from her daughter's friends, Junko pointed an arm at the girls, showing off impressive biceps and tendons. The shiny pistol in her hands was pointed right at them. _Doesn't anyone know anything about gun safety anymore?_ Sayaka wondered, contemplating the danger of deadly weapons in the hands of people who had no respect for the damage they could do. Hopefully this one was fake, at least. Kyoko and Homura were going to have a hard time getting past the inspectors...

"Major Kusanagi, Public Security, Section 9. Reporting for duty," Junko finished, her serious face breaking apart in a dazzling smile.

* * *

"Okay, we have Ichigo Momomiya from Tokyo Mew Mew," Junko waved a a hand at her daughter, who curtsied with a wide smile. "My daughter mentioned that you helped her pick out the costume, Akemi-san. Very interesting choice. I never would have thought you of all people would have such an eye for... provocative fashion. Your own is amazing as well. Bayonetta, you said?" Her gaze rested on the girl in her skin-tight black outfit, and Sayaka watched in amazement as Homura began to blush before the purple-haired woman moved on._ Junko knows_, the blunette thought to herself gleefully. "I don't really play video games. Princess Allura from Voltron, which I _do_ remember from when I was a girl... the blue tiger, right?" Sayaka nodded, tiger being close enough to lion, not that she'd ever correct Kaname Junko anyway. Junko was so cool! She was also the only one who'd recognized her outfit.

"And, if I didn't know better, I would think you really were Dean Winchester! Sakura-san, I presume? It's a pleasure to meet one of Mami-san's friends."

"Kyoko, actually," she said, clutching her leather jacket. "Junko," she added, testing.

The room got silent; Homura stopped her figiting and Mami had a look of extreme constipation, barely able to keep from smacking the back of Kyoko's head. _She is our ride, for heaven's sake! You're getting a pinch for that, ginger!_

Junko stared at the pugnacious expression on the short-haired girl's face. Kyoko noticed her purple eyes were completely different from Homura's soulless expression, but shared the same level of intensity. Mrs. Kaname's eyes seemed to overflow with confidence, eyes that had seen things that even Kyoko had yet to experience or understand, pick out details that Kyoko couldn't even perceive. The amusement sparkling within them made her feel, somehow, inadequate. Which pissed her off.

But then Junko was laughing, and Madoka unclenched her hands, Sayaka sighed loudly and Mami blinked. "Oh, I like this one," she said saucily, winking at a suddenly blushing Mami.

"Oh no, she's not-" The blonde was caught off guard, appalled. She added another pinch to the tally.

"Now now, Madoka told me some very interesting things about you and your pretty-boy toy over there," Junko grinned.

"Toy?" Kyoko growled to herself, red eyes darting between Mami and Madoka.

"Hello Kitty, and, well, so minimalist! I have to say, you're definitely a show-stopper." Inwardly, Junko was just slightly worried that the blonde would steal some of the thunder _she_ was so desperately craving. Getting to traipse around in a revealing, skin-tight suit that accentuated many of her best physical features was something she hadn't done in ages. Her years as a corporate shark had given rise to a mindset that was impossible to shake. She couldn't help but view the busty younger girl, clad in next to nothing, as a rival for attention.

Mami sat, smiling painfully, as Madoka's mother stared at her blankly for several long, uncomfortable seconds. "Thank you, Kaname-sama, for the compliment. And thank you for driving us-"

Junko grinned, flashing her brilliant smile. "You're too nice. Today, we're all just friends going out to have a fun time. You must call me Junko-san," she smiled magnanimously, catching Kyoko's eye with a hard stare to let the girl know the 'san' wasn't optional. "It's my pleasure, girls, I haven't been to one of these in so long..."

"_You _used to go?" Sayaka gasped, while Homura asked, dismayed, simultaneously:

"_You're_ going with us?" Her voice betrayed unease, like some nefarious plan she'd been plotting had suddenly had its conditions changed at the last moment and needed to be completely retooled to work, if it even could work anymore. Mami caught her eye, glowering.

"This is going to be so fun! I'll let you go and do your thing, I just haven't had a chance to dress up in ages! I know the manager of the hotel we're headed to, so if it gets late and you decide you wanna spend the night... the passes are good all weekend. Assuming that's all right with your parents!"

It was an awkward moment for Homura, Kyoko and Mami. None had parents. Still, they were delighted by this turn of events. The girls couldn't believe their ears. Junko was offering to get them rooms in the hotel hosting the convention? Mami smiled, envisioning soft sheets and a whirlpool bathtub. Sayaka grinned, imagining the minibar's snacks and a night without parental supervision. Kyoko smirked, contemplating what to do now that she had Sayaka alone for the night without parental supervision . Homura frowned, imagining piercing purple eyes following her distrustfully all night, watching her every move.

* * *

"Oh this will be so fun!" Junko squealed, feeling like a teenager again as she peeling out of the driveway. The girls in the back seat groaned as she took the turn too fast, causing them to squash into one another. "I can't remember the last time I got to dress up and have fun... we're in this together, ladies, so tonight I want you to think of me as just one of the girls. Just one of the girls. Madoka's... sister, maybe." The girl's in the back seat began exchanging puzzled glances, as Mrs. Kaname chuckled under her breath. "Yes, that will do. Just one of the girls... tonight, remember to call me Junko-san, alright?" When the girls remained silent, unsure of how to respond, Junko took her eyes off the road, turning around to look into the back seat.

"Aaaah-" Sayaka began, pointing at the oncoming compact car.

"No Mrs. Kaname tonight, girls. Junko-san. We're going to have so much fun!" she cried, yelling over the noise of a furiously blaring horn as a small car nearly ran off the road trying to avoid her monstrous SUV. Still grinning wildly, she stuck her hand out the window, raising it above the roof so her passengers couldn't see her gesture.

Glad to finally get out of the back seat, where Kyoko had insistently demanded the blunette sit on her lap, Sayaka stretched, looking around. The parking lot was quite full, but the convention wasn't starting for another thirty five minutes, officially.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Madoka asked, looking around, pulling down on her short pink skirt.

Mami pointed at a group of people, one with horns that looked like candy corn sticking out of his hair, the other in a flowing robe with long pointed ears sticking out of an intensely red wig, while the third looked to be carrying a humongous scythe. "I think this is it," she smiled, adjusting the fishnet webbing around her chest.

"Sayaka-chan, be a darling and hand me that bottle of mouthwash in the compartment behind the seat there. Yes, just turn the- You got it. Thanks." Junko unscrewed the small glass bottle, taking a glug of the clear liquid inside. Gargling for a moment, she swallowed after swishing it around her mouth. Noticing the girls looking at her, she shrugged. "What am I going to do, spit it on the ground?" She took another swig, this time not bothering to gargle and just gulping it down. "Like some kind of barbarian?" she added, slightly breathless.

Kyoko sniffed the air._ Whew! Strong mouthwash_...

_At least she waited until we arrived_, Mami reflected positively, eying the bottle thoughtfully.

"Just one more thing, Madoka dear," Junko said, bending over to dig around in her purse. Sayaka felt guilty as she stared, a bit wide-eyed, at the jiggling posterior that seemed to wave itself around much more than looking for something in a purse required. While not as revealing as Mami's garments, it was still almost less that regular panties, a lot of skin showing, and very little done to hid the, er, _definition_. Blushing, she turned her gaze to the other girls, only to catch Kyoko and Mami watching as well.

_Perverts_, she thought.

Madoka was looking around the parking lot excitedly, bouncing on her toes. Homura was, of course, watching the pinkette.

Junko drew herself carefully out of the car, her clinging lavender leather boots seeming to severely restrict her movement. She motioned for her daughter to approach, and slapped a name tag sticker on her chest, giving her a face full of powerfully minty fresh breath. Madoka stepped back, turning her head sideways to try and read the few characters written on the badge. They read:

I'M 14

"Okay, you're all set! I'll accompany you girls to the check-in, and then let you go your separate ways. Once you're on your own, remember to stay together, be safe, and have fun! Madoka, would you put this back-"

"I'll put it away, Mrs, er, Junko-san," Mami said helpfully, her most innocent smile spread across her face.

"Yes, thank you Mami-chan. Oh my, that outfit is going to give the boys heart attacks!" she laughed, delighted at the fellow exhibitionist's outfit. _Nothing like pushing the limits of good taste to get the juices flowing_.

Kyoko was hopping around, excited without really knowing what to expect. "I'm coming, Cass!" she muttered, feeling certain that she'd find her angel at the Con.

Madoka trudged behind her mother, feeling bashful and a little self-conscious with the sticker across her chest. Homura tagged along, just behind her and to the side.

Mami chatted amiably with Junko as they approached the glass entryway to the hotel.

Sayaka put on her helmet, circumspectly pulled down at the crotch of her pants, and took a deep breath.

It was finally here! Thirty short minutes until ANIMitakiharaCON began!

And then she saw the line.

* * *

**Oh my gosh I love you so much. You know who you are. Thanks for making me eager to keep writing.**

**Good guesses, great observations. Finally, they're at the gates. What lies in wait?**


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: Arrival

The hotel lobby was expansive; people, that is to say, normally dressed people, milled around. Sayaka looked at her friends, tingling with nervous excitement that was slowly turning into a sense of unease. Where was the convention? Where were-

"There," Mami pointed as Junko caught up to the group. A man dressed in a business suit walked slowly behind her, goggling at her rear as she sauntered through the glass doors. Looking at her pink-haired, cat-eared friend, the blunette noticed the girl's discomfort, face down-turned, hiding her blushing cheeks.

Mami and Kyoko began walking in the direction of a small sign; as Homura and Junko started to follow, Sayaka took the opportunity to speak with her friend privately.

"Madoka-chan, what's wrong? You've been so quiet. Are you nervous?" Sayaka grinned, poking her friend in the ribs. "You've been looking forward to this forever, we're gonna have so much fun!" The blunette was really starting to amp herself up, feeling suddenly hyper and twitchy. "You've got such an awesome costume, people are going to want their pictures taken with you all day long!"

Madoka smiled wanly, obviously not convinced. "Th-thanks, Sayaka-chan," she said softly. "It's... I'm f-fine..."

The blunette was not fooled; Madoka's "I'm pretending like I don't want to talk about it, but I really want to so you better keep asking or I'll be pissed later" face being something she was all too familiar with. "Is... is it your mom being here? Because, honestly, we all think Junko-san is awesome!"

Madoka frowned, her face somehow even cuter than when she smiled. "No, it's... it's not th-that." The pinkette leaned close, a troubled look on her face. "But, d-did you s-see the s-s-stares she g-got walking in?" Her wide, pink eyes had a haunted look to them.

"Hey, your mom earned those looks. I hope I look half that good when I'm old. And it's not like you won't be catching people's eyes tonight! Me-Yow!" She gave her friend a playful pinch, causing the pinkette to squeal, which in turn drew the eyes of the two dozen well-dressed people that were doing their own thing throughout the room.

Taking off her helmet, the blunette put her arm around her dearest friend. "Madoka, don't worry about any of that stuff, it's going to be awesome! There's free food, anime playing in a mini theater, the panels and guests and all the costumes and toys and collectables..." Madoka watched Sayaka's enthusiasm began to bubble up from within, knowing full well her friend had saved an entire semester's allowance in anticipation of this event.

Truth be told, Madoka wasn't the rabid fan Sayaka was. Homura, even Mami, had watched much more anime than she had; Sayaka had informed her that My Little Pony didn't count. She liked dressing up, but some things about this costume that Homura had been so insistent about made her feel less than comfortable.

"Yeah, it will be fun-" the pinkette began, turning under Sayaka's arm. She stumbled, the bell on her tail jingling, tripping on her modest heeled shoes. Grasping instinctively, the blunette caught her friend, the pink helmet, indistinguishable from the helmets teenagers wore while riding their mopeds to school, fell to the floor, rolling up against an unoccupied couch.

"Oh no!" Madoka cried, moving forward. "I'm so sorry, Sayaka-chan, I hope I didn't scratch it..." She bent over to pick up the pink helmet, and Sayaka felt her stomach drop as she caught a flash of something that made her cheeks burn.

"Madoka." Sayaka whispered fiercely, pulling the girl up. "_Madoka_! You're... you're _not wearing underwear_!" Her blue eyes darted around the room, paranoid that someone had seen something they shouldn't have, her face feeling flushed and radiating heat like a beacon.

"Th-that's w-why I'm n-n-nervous!" the wide-eyed girl moaned, almost tearful.

"B-but... how... wha...?"

"It's the s-silly costume Homura-chan got me," Madoka explained, gulping. "Sh-she was v-very specific, only to w-wear what c-came w-with th-th-the c-c-costume."

"Take a deep breath, Madoka-chan, sweetie."

"And a-all it c-came with were _these_!" Madoka raised up the short, pink ruffles of her skirt, forcing Sayaka see the sheer, almost invisible shorts the pinkette wore underneath before the blue-haired girl could avert her gaze with a curse. "I don't even know who Tokyo Mew-Mew is!" she finished miserably.

"Ah, hmm... well..." The blunette thought quickly, but mostly it was just the word "Homura," over and over. Thinking back, she remembered her friend pulling down at her short dress since she'd made her appearance..._ if only she'd said something back at the house_.

"And you... didn't bring any extras?" The pinkette shook her head mournfully. They had originally planned on going back to Mami-san's place for a sleepover, but the offer of a free hotel room had been too good to pass up. She had her own little supply of stuff... "You could borrow some of mine. I'll give them to you when we get to the room." It would mean the white pair she was currently wearing would have to last the weekend, but that's what friends were for.

"Thanks, Sayaka-chan. Homura-chan said we were supposed to stay in our outfits the whole time," Madoka explained. "So I thought we wouldn't be needing other clothes..."

"Well, I never thought anyone would out-do Mami-san today, but you just earned the title of naughtiest girl at the con. Let's keep this between ourselves. Just... don't sit down on anything," Sayaka grinned at her friend, taking her arm and placing the pink helmet back on her head. Madoka giggled, and Sayaka looked at her closely. "Seriously, though, I wouldn't sit on anything if I were you. No telling where these chairs have been," she muttered ominously. "And whatever you do don't bend over to pick things up!"

Madoka wish she'd gotten the advice sooner, remembering how Homura had kept dropping the small satchel she used as her overnight bag, accidentally kicking it forward every time. Madoka must have leaned over to pick it up half a dozen times, Homura having complained it was difficult bending down in her tight latex suit.

The pinkette seemed to gain confidence as the two strode through the high-ceilinged entryway, turning a corner and coming into sight of several counters where professional people talked with classily-uniformed staff. "So, Homura-chan played quite a trick on me, then, didn't she?" Smiling, trying to see the humor in the situation. "She can be so funny, sometimes!"

"Yeah, she's funny all right," Sayaka muttered. "Madoka, you-. Why would she want..." The blunette broke off, seeing the puzzled look in the pink eyes of her friend. "Why do you think she told you to wear _those_?" She finally asked, pointing down with her eyes.

"Umm... probably because they're part of the costume? Why else, silly Sayaka-chan?" Giggling, the pinkette leaned close. "Don't tell her I changed the costume, she worked so hard helping me with this."

Sayaka sighed, patting her friend on the head. She wanted to say more, but had noticed Homura approaching. She walked over to Kyoko and Mami instead, waiting behind the much taller, statuesque form of Mrs. Kaname. Her eye-catching lavender boots did nothing to hide her shapely thighs, but the short, black leather jacket she wore covered up her expansive chest just enough to appear decent. Tantalizingly suggestive, but decent.

Junko stood in line, chatting with two very eager-looking young men dressed in suits and ties, expensive-looking luggage at their feet. Before Sayaka could listen in, intrigued as she noticed how close the purple-haired woman was standing to the men, Kyoko was suddenly invading her personal space. Backing away, the blunette bumped into something cushy. "Oops, sorry M-"

Junko's head snapped back, her purple eyes burning into Sayaka's own. "J-Junko-san. So sorry," she finished, Junko already having turned back to her conversation, which now included a grizzled looking American and a youngish woman in a cocktail dress.

_Yikes_, Sayaka thought, as the group laughed at something Junko said. She felt an evil presence gathering behind her, and spun around.

"You and Chuckles there have a good time while you were away?" Kyoko asked innocently, looking at Madoka out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't you dare 'Chuckles' her, Kyoko. Be nice for once in your life, see what happens." Sayaka glared at the older girl, turning slowly as the former red-head stalked around her once, then gave up.

Mami walked over, gazing around almost expectantly. "I wonder where everyone is," she murmured, as if to herself. "This is where the sign said to go..."

The ceiling towered above them, six floors of glass-fenced walkways stretching around the central lobby in concentric rectangles. A lush garden surrounded a fountain in the center of the cavernous room, the soft noise of flowing water adding to the atmosphere of calm and peace. Various couches, chairs and tables were present throughout the room, and several staircases led off of the main chamber.

"Excuse me." The three girls turned to look at the greying man who had spoken, impeccable in his stiff collar and black coat, a stern look on his face. He addressed Mami. "Young lady, we maintain a dress code that our guests must ob-"

Kyoko, when she was motivated, had the reaction time of a lightning bolt. That's how she put it, anyway, despite Sayaka's insistence that since electricity wasn't capable of thought, it could not be said to react, and therefore couldn't have a reaction time. She recognized the disapproving eyes and sneering tone of the older man, someone important in this establishment if his expensive watch was to be believed. Also, ever since she'd seen the drill-tailed blonde's outfit, she'd known there might be the need for intervention.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kyoko saw Mami glance at her briefly, while Sayaka winced, expecting a reprimand, worrying about getting kicked out of the con before they'd even entered-

Kyoko snapped her fingers, rudely, right in the man's face. Eyebrows shooting up, the man's wrinkled skin seemed to stretch smooth across his cheeks as his mouth opened while his brow furrowed, outraged, staring daggers at the obnoxious girl-

A pair of azure eyes blinked, uncomprehending. One second, the man had looked ready to, at the very least, talk to them extremely sternly, and now...

"Isn't her outfit simply grand?" Kyoko said, not bothering to keep a sneer out of her voice. "Don't you just love Hello Kitty?"

"Yes... yes, I... I do. I mean, I have a... a daughter who... loves..." the man drifted off for a moment, looking content and, if Sayaka had to describe it, a little sleepy.

"Glad you _approve_," the former red-head added, adjusting the leather jacket she wore. The man in the black suit nodded, smiling vaguely. "I bet you like it enough to tell everyone you work with about it. You're an important guy, right?" Kyoko questioned, only half-listening to the man's garbled response. Mami looked faintly embarrassed by the scene, but remained resolute. Sayaka made a hasty and quickly forgotten vow never to look Kyoko directly in the eyes again.

As the old bastard rambled on about his important duties, Kyoko was thinking of ways to improve her situation, a pastime that bordered on compulsive obsession on occasion. What were the priorities?

"Say there, Chuckles, I have an idea. Kaname Junko, the very important woman who's bringing us to your lovely hotel, should be treated to the best room you have. The luxury suite or whatever." She paused, making sure her temporary minion understood what she was asking. Misunderstood directions had bitten her in the past. "There's a group of us with her. Her... sisters. Make sure we get rooms by the pool. Adjoining rooms," she added, nodding.

"It will be as you say, sir," the stiff man replied, making Mami giggle softly behind a cupped hand. "Penthouse suite for Madame Kaname, two rooms poolside for yourselves, adjoining." She nodded, and as he began walking to the front desk, she called out "One more thing," and ran after him, saying something briefly, after which the man nodded and continued to the counter.

"What was that?" The blunette asked Kyoko as she walked back, picking at something stuck to her faded jeans. "Junko-san's already getting us rooms. I see how you helped Mami-san there, which was good," Sayaka said in honest relief, "but scamming rooms... how's that different from stealing?"

"How is Junko's friend-" Mami's elbow hit the former red-head in the short ribs, hard. Kyoko's eyes shut in pain as the blonde whispered to her furiously.

"You will be respectful to the woman who is our host, our chaperone, and Madoka's mother! Otherwise, there _will _be consequences." Mami's golden eyes stared levelly at their crimson counterparts, Kyoko struggling with two bad options: succumbing to the blonde's threats, or suffering from her wickedly sharp tongue at some later time.

Being naturally contrary, Kyoko made up a third option and just decided to like Junko. She was pretty awesome in that outfit, and memories of the impressively muscled arms made her look in the woman's direction.

"Junko-san sure does make friends quickly," she commented, as a group of spectators seemed to cling to every word of a story she was in the midst of, animated gesticulations seeming to accentuate the natural strengths of her physique.

"My point, which you would know by now if I hadn't been so_ rudely interrupted_," Kyoko glared at Mami for a moment, the blonde simply smiling indulgently. Sayaka had a half-grin on her face, shaking her head in mock amazement. "How is Junko-san's friend giving her a free hotel room any different from me asking that withered old man politely, and him generously giving us the ones we want?"

"Junko-san is getting a gift from a friend, basically; you're tricking someone, forcing them, into giving you something for free. Like a robber."

"Does her friend _own _the building? Does he _personally_-"

Mami had once again had enough. "Girls, stop. Stop." Her golden eyes fixed on Kyoko until the girl had closed her mouth grumpily. "This is going to be a weekend of _fun_. There is exactly one weekend every year that I allow myself to really let loose, enjoy life and live a little. This. Is. It," she said through suddenly clenched teeth. Just as quickly, she was all smiles again. "Please don't ruin it for me. We spend so much time fighting for our lives and those of the innocents around us-" At this point in her monologue, Sayaka's eyes lit up with fervent passion, while Kyoko rolled her eyes at the notion, "let's not fight amongst ourselves while we're here. Honestly Kyoko, don't you get enough of that _every single day _to be able to put it aside for a _few hours_?" The merry twinkle in her eyes gave the lie to her pleading tone, and a slightly predatory grin made it clear she wasn't making a request.

Junko had gotten to the front of the line, waving at some of the new friends she'd apparently made as she turned their back. Sayaka watched a couple drift away aimlessly, dragging their feet, while the tall gaijin lingered around and the lady in the slinky dress hovered over her purse, digging for something she just couldn't seem to find, casting covert glances at the counter from underneath her dangling bangs.

Madoka and Homura rejoined the group, the pinkette grinning as the raven-haired girl clasped one of her hands tightly. Sayaka was interested to see the dead look in the transfer student's eyes had been replaced by something she'd categorize as _dazed_. An improvement, no doubt about it. But when Homura dropped the bag she was clutching, and Madoka giggled "You sure are clumsy in that tight outfit, Homura-chan!" and bend down to pick it up...

Madoka's eyes went wide as her blunette friend suddenly filled her vision. Sayaka grabbed the bag, picking it up and throwing it, hard, at Homura's chest. "What did I tell you?!" she whispered harshly at the pinkette, who had the grace to look abashed as Homura tottered backward, off balance from the force of Sayaka's throw.

"_Homu_!" Madoka cried as the latex-suited girl toppled over in a wave of shimmering black hair and glossy skin-tight pants. She reached out, but was pulled down by the larger girl's momentum, collapsing in a heap of tangled limbs.

"We're all set, girls... girls?!" Junko's narrowed purple eyes, accentuated by her matching hair and lilac outfit, looked down on the floor, demanding answers. "Madoka," she began, "get off the floor immediately. You're making a scene."

"Sorry, Mo-" Junko's eyes flashed, an eyebrow raised. "J-Junko-s-san," Madoka muttered. "Homura-chan, er, fell," she started, not wanting to implicate Sayaka in any of this. "I tried to catch her..."

Junko smiled. Then she looked at Homura. "So I see you're at the bottom of this," she said softly, still smiling as she grabbed her daughter's arm and yanked her to her feet.

"Ow...!"

Junko offered a hand to the remaining prone girl, who looked around as if to find a way to escape, before clasping the older woman's hand. Junko pulled her up, fast, the precisely defined musculature of her arms drawing the attention of several of the girls, as well as a few random bystanders. Sayaka looked around, seeing several people standing around, looking at the group of young women looking so out of place in the elegant-looking lobby of this moderately posh hotel.

"Oh my god get a look at that _kitty_!" "Tokyo Mew-Mew," someone whispered. Another was saying "Ghost in the Shell, I loved that when I was a teenager..." "blah blah jailbait" "Who's the boy?" "I think that one's a Power Ranger-" "-can arrest _me _anytime."

"Can we get in now?" Sayaka asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Junko blinked, looking at the blunette. "Yes, of course... well, that was just to check in for our rooms... we really scored on this one, ladies, you'll have two adjoining rooms down by the pool! It's funny, he had specifically mentioned those rooms were all booked up when I discussed it with him over the phone... so it must be your lucky day!" She leaned over to her daughter, who was looking slightly pouty and rubbing her arm. "I brought your swimsuit, Madoka-_chan_," she emphasized. "I know how much you love getting wet!"

Her eyes darted to Homura Bayonetta, caught the slight widening of her eyes, the startled intake of breath... for her part, Akemi Homura realized she'd been caught in a Freudian trap by the wily mother of her intended prey, and hung her head, her cheeks flushing from white to pale, pale pink. Purple hair spun through the air as Mrs. Kaname shook her head, amazed at how easy it had been to get a reaction from her daughter's stoic, emotionless classmate.

Mami and Kyoko shared a long, significant glance, amusement and anticipation blending into unease. They waited but nothing happened.

Gathering everyone, Junko gave Mami and Sayaka two key cards each. Homura was busy trying to comfort her pinkette with a yearning purple gaze, but Kyoko saw and couldn't help thinking_ Where the hell is mine? _She consoled herself, knowing that she'd soon get the card from the blunette, one way or the other_. It ain't the only thing I'm gonna get from that girl tonight_, she thought sinisterly.

Sayaka saw Kyoko looking at the key cards as she slipped them into her single, miniscule pocket. Something about the way the former red-head's eyes seemed to blaze with sinister intent made her quail internally. She was definitely going to have to watch her back around that girl tonight. The thought made her nervous, and shockingly, embarrassingly, more than a little excited.

"Before you head to your rooms, we need to check in to the convention. It's up on the second floor, let's go up those stairs over there..."

Ten minutes until the convention started! They were getting in early!

* * *

Or not.

"_What_. The. _Fuck_?" Kyoko enunciated each word, gazing at the long, long line that snaked through the hallway. At the top of the stairs, they had seen a cluster of people milling around, swirling capes and swishing tails and horns and wigs and hoods and masks and most of all WEAPONS! Sayaka felt excited, seeing all the badass anime weaponry floating around, big swords, little swords, the omnipresent katanas and the less common full on daisho set, scythes and axes and even a spear or two... some rather large dude was walking around, bare-chested except for some leather straps that pinched into his unhealthily-pale flab, what looked to be an immense hammer or mace hung over his back. There were guns aplenty, as well, but she didn't care so much about them.

Head literally spinning as she tried to take in all the different outfits and paraphernalia that surrounded her, Sayaka at first only vaguely heard Kyoko's curse. When the older girl repeated it again, loudly and right in her ear, the blunette was forced out of her reverie.

"What is it now?" she asked in exasperation. Kyoko simply pointed, first in one direction, then slowly bringing her arm across in the other. Sayaka followed with her eyes.

It was big-ass line. "But I thought..." Sayaka's voice trailed away as she saw the people slowly, lurchingly, step forward, a single, miserable step at a time before stopping, like some syncopated human wave, starting at one end and slowly making its way to the other.

Junko looked a little startled at the size of the line, contemplating the tried-and-true tactic of "cutsies," but decided to be a good role model for the young women under her wing, so to speak, during their little weekend adventure.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems," she said, confidently hiding the doubt she felt at her own words. Mami sensed Junko's unease, feeling a flickering impatience in the older woman. Curious, she decided to break the ice. "Junko-san, would you tell us a story about when you..."

Meanwhile, Madoka and Homura walked down the long line of people, Homura meeting the gazes of people she passed by, who almost invariable found something else to look at, feeling a chill of discomfort as they met the cold, analytical eyes.

Madoka, pulling down at her skirt with one hand, mostly saw people's shoes out of the corner of her eye. Detecting the pinkettes unease, Homura slowed her pace, looking inquiringly down at the girl. "What's wrong Madoka? You seem uneasy." She gave her friend's hand a firm squeeze, attributing the pinkette's wince to a smile of gratitude.

"I'm... j-just a little n-nervous," Madoka explained, smiling timidly. "There's... s-so m-many people..."

"Do their stares make you uncomfortable, _Madoki_?" she demanded, purple eyes darting around to make sure no one heard her use the special name for her most special friend. The pinkette turned an even darker shade of red at the whispered final word. "Say the word and I'll stab their filthy little eyes out of their-"

"N-no! Ahhh, not th-that. It's... just, I... I don't..." Uable to articulate herself, Madoka switched gears. "Homu, y-you're hurting my fingers..."

Homura released her friend's hand, her empty fingers clenching sweatily as she rubbed them on her glossy, clinging outfit, which was of course rubber-based and thus unable to absorb moisture. "I'm sorry, Madoki-doki," she whispered in the pinkette's ear, eliciting a self-conscious giggle. "It's just, I like you sometimes... so _much_... I forget how fragile you are." Grabbing the girl's hand, she brought it to her face, kissing each finger. A young man dressed as Naruto stared, open-mouthed, until Homura caught his eye, somehow conveying a promise of painful, excruciating death that made him blanch and turn away.

"I'm not fragile!" Madoka pouted for about one second, before the Homura's dark, dark lips were tickling her fingers and she was giggling again. The eyeliner, the dark lipstick... the pinkette was amazed at the transformation the transfer student had accomplished. Impulsively, she hugged her friend tightly, not immediately accounting for the added inches of height from Homura's shoes. The attempted grasp around the waist actually contacted an area somewhere below that.

* * *

The four women turned to exchange disbelieving glances as they saw and heard Homura crash heavily into a table, upturning in and its contents in a shower of leaflets, Madoka stumbling along behind her. "That outfit does look rather... constricting," Junko smiled, and Mami-san gave a sycophantic titter of delight at her wit. They caught up to two girls just as Homura finally managed to get herself up off the floor, looking suspiciously defensive under Junko's scrutiny. The purple-haired woman only smiled, continuing on to the end of the line, some ten meters away.

Junko had counted her strides, seen how often people moved forward, and how far they moved each time. Her calculations were crude, but conclusive.

It was going to be a long wait.

* * *

Fifteen minutes and four steps forward later, Junko had forgotten her impatience and was basking in the warming glow of attention. The people before her in line, a group of high-school aged girls traveling with a lone, rather scrawny boy, had struck up a conversation about her costume, and Junko had dived right in, striking poses and gesticulating impressively.

Sayaka watched the tall blonde girl who kept giggling at every damn thing Junko said, annoyed. Kyoko was making new friends as well, having sauntered up to one of the girls. Definitely an odd couple; shorter, boyish-looking Kyoko with that hair Sayaka still couldn't wrap her imagination around, and the bluish-green-wigged, willowy girl leaning against the wall, grinning at whatever the former red-head was saying, playing with the teal tie that matched her hair exactly.

Looking closer, Sayaka realized Kyoko was hitting up a Vocaloid.

A paunchy man was making his way down the line. The blunette groaned as he approached, looking intently over the people in line. "I don't know you. Don't know you. You're Ash, ugh. No offense but, ugh. Y0you're... whoa, Major Kusanagi, you look just like her!" The man was ready to gush more, but a brief, withering glance from the purple-haired woman sent him on his way. "Hatsune Miku, nice. I have no idea what you are, you're a... very naughty kitty," he continued, but Mami ignored him so he kept going. "You're from a video game I can't remember, you're Ichigo... niiiice," he said, lingering over Madoka until he was roughly pushed. "Whoa, easy there video game girl... and you are-"

Sayaka felt his critical gaze examining her, thinking _If he calls me a Power Ranger so help me I'll_-

"Princess Allura?! Very original... even if that pink stripe is too thin, it should be like twice as wide, and your helmet's obviously just a motorcycle helmet, the real one comes down to a point above your eyes..."

Momentary glee at the fact that someone, anyone, had recognized who she actually was quickly became replaced with something darker as the man pointed out flaws in her costume. "You're not even dressed up!" she spat, noting the man's rumpled button-up shirt and unkempt hair. He gave her a strange look, then continued walking towards the end of the line, which now extended another fifty or so people behind them.

"Another Naruto, and there's Death, and Death Eater. You can't carry a scythe, you _are _the scythe-" Toning out the annoying drone of the man's nit-picking voice, Sayaka turned to see Madoka talking excitedly with Homura, practically jumping up and down. Smiling, she wondered what had caused her friend to lighten up and get in the spirit of things.

Mami had demurely kept her eyes down, resolute, waiting to be approached. Unfortunately, she'd waited the past seventeen minutes, and despite a lot of wandering eyes, nobody had even talked to her. Mami was many things, but she was certainly not the type of girl to be the first one to show interest. Not like some other red-haired hussy she could think of. Also, she didn't really enjoy having to choose, either. Much easier when options presented themselves...

Sayaka approached her mentor, seeing her distress. _Maybe she overdid it just a little_, the blunette thought in a dark recess of her mind, hidden from any accidental "sharing" that might occur if a certain invisible white space-fox decided to make one of its signature annoying appearances.

"What are you most excited about, Mami-san?" Sayaka asked, trying to take the older girl's mind off whatever was troubling her.

"Um, well, let's see," drill tails bouncing, Mami put a finger to her chin adorably. Sayaka sighed involuntarily. "I'd have to say I'm excited to meet some of the voice actors especially, and of course see the procession... and I hope I'll be able to find the last season I'm missing for my Ranma 1/2 collection."

"I've never heard of that, think I'd like it?" the blunette wondered earnestly.

"I think you would. It's funny. Do you think it's funny when boys change into girls, and girls into boys?"

They both paused, glancing simultaneously at the leather-jacket clad girl, who was gesturing wildly with her arms in an exaggerated shooting motion, much to her green-wigged companion's delight.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime and watch it," Sayaka offered hopefully. Mami could be a little distant, sometimes. Especially after a long day of fighting and school.

"You know, that's a terrific idea, Sayaka-chan. We don't get to spend enough time together. Ever since you saved me from that candy witch, we haven't had enough of an opportunity to bond. I don't know if you realize the depth of my feelings toward you. You are an incredible, strong and beautifully sexy woman, Sayaka, and I love you and want to be with you, get my hands in my hair and my tongue in-"

"Sayaka-chan?" Blinking, the blunette's eyes refocused. Mami looked at her expectantly, as if expecting an answer to a question.

"Ahh, um, sorry Mami-san, what did you say?" Cheeks betraying her embarrassment at the daydream, traitorous red staining her fair skin, Sayaka took a deep breath. _Whew, that was an intense one._ She fanned herself for a moment. "Is it warm in here?"

Mami's concern changed to amusement. "I was saying, we don't get to spend enough time together. We should set up a day where we get together, you and Madoka and I, even Homura," she added, generously but still with hesitation.

"Even if they can't make it, we should do it!" Sayaka said excitedly.

"Yes, we'll get together and have some cake or pastries, watch a show or two... What a marvelous idea. I'm really looking forward to it, Sayaka-chan!" Mami beamed with joy, the radiance washing over Sayaka, entering inside and bouncing around, reflecting and refracting into a multi-hued rainbow of happiness and and fulfillment. "We should see what things we'd like to do, first," she said pragmatically, taking out a printed out list of activities, organized by time and location.

_That's our Mami!_ Sayaka raved inwardly, _such_ a huge fan of her badass yet lady-like sensei. Always thinking ahead, knowing what to do. She bent forward, sneaking a look at the generous curve that ran down the middle of the older girl's chest, framed by the hemispherical mountains of flesh that hung enticingly, barely contained by the white fishnet stretched across her torso.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sayaka caught a glimpse of something strange. Looking up, she felt herself goggling at someone dressed in a full body animal outfit, plush looking tufts of fur sticking out every which way, a wolf's head smiling innocently, baring sharp teeth.

Poking Mami, the blunette pointed, giggling, but then the creature stopped, its lupine head turning in her direction. Then it waved. At her.

Sayaka felt herself blushing as people were looking over, spectating on the awkward interaction. Turning away, hoping the thing would disappear, the blunette was dismayed at the pitying look in Mami's eyes, knowing the creature was not going away, but approaching.

She felt a soft, furred hand pat her shoulder. Face red, she felt foolish keeping her back turned, and so was confronted with someone in a wolf suit, arms outstretched, practically begging for a hug.

Sayaka was not comfortable with that. But people were staring, and Mami looked at her encouragingly, so she stepped forward, attempting an awkward one-armed hug. The creature's plush arms encircled her, locking tightly for a few moments while she squirmed. People were smiling at her discomfort. Someone flashed a picture.

Extricating herself, she watched the thing wander off. "What the hell was that?" she asked Mami, breathless.

"I think that's what they call a Furry."

"Uh... a furry? That sounds... vaguely disturbing."

Mami nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. "Yes. Rule 34 and all of that."

Sayaka made a mental note to research rule 34 and furries on the internet as soon as she got home.

The line lurched forward, another step.

* * *

**You probably shouldn't do what Sayaka did. At least not in the same query.**

**Hope the editing wasn't too atrocious, putting it up before I'm incommunicado for the rest of the evening.**

**Oh, the reviews... I. just. can't. thank. you. ENOUGH. Inspiring; I'm so grateful, and loved some of the thoughts and ideas some of you had so much that I incorporated them in a bit, so... well done, thanks for contributing!  
**

**And whoever GUEST is who wrote me those reviews for all my stories in one day, many thanks.**

**You're the best. Even if you've never written anything (I'm not fishing at all) the little tally you leave behind leaves a pleasant tingle in my mouth. (but it's the reviews that give me that all-over fresh feeling).**

**Hope this is maintaining its sparkle, it took so long because it's longer than I usually write, actually. And they have yet to get to the convention proper. Is the pacing okay, or too much/not enough minutiae? I was thinking 3 chapters, now maybe more like 6ish. I'm particularly enjoying this because I get to incorporate some real life events that I was privileged enough to witness myself... enough for this whole thing to be "based on a true story," at least on cable.**

**I don't presume to judge anyone, except maybe clompers or whatever they're called, but there will be some references to other genres and characters, don't take it seriously.**


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: Room

Finally, finally reaching the corner that the line tantalizingly disappeared around, Sayaka poked her head over Mami's shoulder. Filled with the heady scent of the cat-eared blonde's delicate perfume, it took her a moment to focus on what lay ahead. Blinking, she turned to the older girl, who leaned back, retreating a step with a slightly wary look.

"The end's in sight," the blunette said with a grin, wondering why her mentor was so jumpy. "Or it will be, once we get around the corner," she amended. Thirty meters or so; sixty some people in the tightly packed queue. Not so bad. "Won't be long now!"

A flash of green and a faded leather jacket caught her attention, and she turned, catching sight of the retreating forms of a smallish Dean Winchester, an arm wrapped around the waist of that tall, willowy Vocaloid. Looking at the group ahead, Sayaka double-taked, wondering when the former red-head had left the line. Junko was still engaged in animated conversation with the people ahead of them. "Um... Mami-san...where's-?"

"Sakura-san? She got sick of waiting and left while we were planning out what events to see." The blonde looked vaguely displeased.

"Oh." Feeling vaguely disappointed, and a little guilty about being disappointed, Sayaka thought about some potential problems that could arise from this development. "But, won't she get kicked out if she doesn't have her pass?"

Mami glanced over to the blunette, staring into her earnestly questioning eyes. She sighed, then smiled. "Miki-san, she _has _her pass. That _girl's_, too. Sakura-san walked up to the front of the line and demanded it. You know how she is," Mami said, holding her eyes, snapping her fingers._ It isn't my place to get involved in the personal lives of these girls_, Mami thought to herself for what seemed like the thousandth time. _But Kyoko's so... complicated. And Sayaka, a babe in the woods_...

"B-but, if she got her pass already, why didn't she get us ours?" Sayaka sputtered, her mind already partially trained to gloss over Kyoko's bad behavior and focus immediately on how the red-head's actions affected her, usually in a negative way.

"Well, that's Sakura-san." The blonde played with her Ojou ringlets, wondering if she should say anything else. The girl's hurt expression made her go on. "Come on, Miki-san, you've known the girl for a while." Mami couldn't ignore the faint color that bloomed in the blunette's cheeks. "She's out for number one, and in case you didn't know, that means herself. The rooms, well, that was for her benefit too, I'm sure." Lowering her voice with an uncertain glance at Madoka's mother, she went on. "J-Junko-san, upstairs... away from us." She tripped over the name, a delicious thrill at addressing an adult as an equal, and one as amazing as Mrs. Kaname... "It's too bad, she seems like so much fun."

"Kyoko-chan can be fun, sometimes," Sayaka said, slightly wistful. Mami gave her a sharp look.

"I was talking about Junko-san. Sakura-san's fun... it comes at other people's expense, more often than not. You practically killed each other over some of that 'fun,' if I recall..."

"Oh, that was just a... just a misunderstanding." Sayaka said hastily, embarrassed at interrupting her sensei and also because she was defending the red-head for some reason.

"Yes, well... live and learn," Mami finished, losing interest in the conversation. _Sometimes, you have to make a mistake yourself in order to learn from it_.

Mami could be pretty deep, sometimes.

* * *

"Madoka, we're going to have so much fun," Homura promised, her eyes sparkling as she snuck a glance at Junko, who's back was turned. Mami and Sayaka were holding a piece of paper together, their heads bent down in study. The pinkette followed her gaze, craning a delicate neck, throat crinkling every so slightly around the pink choker the girl wore. Unable to resist herself, trying to control her breathing, the raven-haired girl leaned forward, mouth slightly open-

"Tee hee!" Madoka giggled, feeling her friend pressing a warm cheek against her own. She was a little chilly, the air conditioning and a large percentage of exposed flesh working in tandem. The heat radiating off the other girl felt good, and Madoka was really enjoying the physical sense of closeness... Sayaka had always been playfully rough when they were younger, and now was increasingly hands-off, like Hitomi. She closed her eyes, basking in the delightful feel of Homura's cheek rubbing against her own. Briefly, the pinkette considered her absent, green-haired friend. _How could she already have had plans?_

Someone behind them snickered. Breaking away, flushing, Madoka giggled nervously. "Homu... not here," she whispered, embarrassed. Pulling down at her short skirt, she almost clapped as her mother approached the counter, waved on by a man wearing a security badge. The pinkette pretended not to see the man's eyes follow her mom's derriere as she sauntered up to get their passes, or the way they widened when he turned to see Mami standing next in line.

Looking around for something to take her mind off humiliating trains of thought, Madoka pointed. They had followed a path along the outside of the building, windows to their right as they made their way around the corner. This room was larger, not a hallway but some sort of open chamber with dozens of folding tables set up in a large "U" shape. Several sets of double doors lay along the opposite wall, some holding placards with writing that was too far away for the pinkette to make out.

People were beginning to set up displays, pictures and prints laying underneath glass or hanging in cases. "What's that?"

Homura concentrated on controlling her trembling, crushing the sick, frustrated feeling that was eating her up inside with an iron heart, a broken, shattered heart that had been reforged by the hellfire of a fate worse than death, purified within the crucible of a hundred lifetimes of pain and suffering. "Prints and buttons and stickers, I guess. Uh, don't look over there," she hastily added as the wandering pink gaze looked toward a decidedly adult interpretation of Saeko and Takashi's night spent in the Buddhist temple. Shinto temple? Homura shrugged, unconcerned; she hadn't ever really been interested in religion. Not until she'd found her goddess.

* * *

"Okay girls! It's, let's see..." Her usual sliver Gucci watch having been left behind in favor of the fingerless black leather gloves, Junko consulted the back of her wrist before realizing what she was doing. "Does anyone have the time?" she asked politely to no one in particular, and several arms shot out of line, a multitude of wristwatches, from slim and elegant to thick and massive, made available to the purple-haired woman.

"Thank you," she said graciously, turning back to the girls and leaving some of those behind her feeling like they hadn't gotten picked to be on a very special team, or invited to a party everyone wanted to go to. "Five thirty. Should we head to our rooms, first? I don't think there's anything going on until-"

"At six some of the panels start," Sayaka supplied helpfully.

"Alright, then. Would you girls like to meet up later?" Madoka looked down, rubbing the toe of her shoe in small circles around the carpet. Homura kept silent, but her slightly-less-than-hostile expression spoke volumes. Mami looked inquiringly at Sayaka.

"Because if you don't, I'm certain I can find something to occupy myself with," she went on, looking around the room, her gaze sweeping over a dozen yearning stares, trying to meet her eyes, without the slightest acknowledgement.

Mami could take a hint. "We'll be fine, Junko-san," she assured the older woman.

"Excellent. Madoka, keep your phone with you."

"Yes, okay I will."

"Oh, and Mami-san," Junko drew the older girl aside, gripping the pliant flesh of her upper arm delicately, but with insistence. Leaning close, she whispered something in the blonde's ear. Sayaka saw her eyes turn to Homura as she whispered, and saw the black-haired, black body-suited girl catch the glance and lower her eyes, pouting.

* * *

Sayaka found Kyoko in a large round, the perimeter of which was taken up by two dozen flatscreens, each as large as the one in her family's living room, the one she was _forbidden _to play games on. She had to use the little crappy one in her room, and their stupid wireless internet was three rooms away! Her gaming was severely impeded by her poor latency, but her complaints fell on deaf ears. Old, dumb, deaf ears. _Stupid unfair rules,_ she thought, before her eyes locked in on the quarry she'd been hunting for the past fifteen minutes.

Kyoko's face was lit up by the screen she stared into, the short, dark hair that spiked up a little in front making it difficult to recognize her profile. It was the posture; leaning back, one dark brown boot propped on the table. She held her controller in one hand, the other stuffing something into her mouth, jaw working furiously. The girl with the green wig sat beside her, talking quietly as she folded up an empty paper sack, an earnest expression on her face.

Walking across the dim room, the blunette glanced around, seeing a table set with vast racks of game discs, and other groups of people clustered around the other machines. Sayaka approached Kyoko slowly, feeling a compulsion to eavesdrop.

"-doing anything, later tonight?" she caught the other girl saying coyly, and stopped. Kyoko grunted, throwing down her controller.

Kyoko, having finished thrusting whatever it was in her mouth, struggled to make an exaggerated swallow. "I'll tell you what I'm doing right now; kicking this kid's ass!" she roared in victory, sending a visible spray partly-chewed rice and fish flakes into the air, offering her defeated opponent a finger of consolation. The "kid," in this case being some fairly respectable twenty something character, shook his head, appalled at his loss but even more by his opponent's behavior. Leaving, furious, his exit was watched by the Vocaloid-girl.

"Was... was that really neces-" she began, but Kyoko turned to look at her and flashed her dazzling smile.

"I know what I _want _to be _doing_, later tonight," she murmured, eyes narrowed roguishly. Then she caught sight of a bubble-headed reflection in the screen in front of her and spun around.

"What the _hell_-"

"J-Junko-san wants us to get our stuff stowed in the rooms..." Sayaka trailed off, feeling awkward under the hard, crimson stare of the still-sitting girl in front of her. She took off her helmet again, just to have something to do with her hands.

"So, go stow it, then," Kyoko growled.

Sayaka didn't leave immediately, and Kyoko sighed loudly. "What is it?"

"We're supposed to-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" the former red-head roared, getting to her feet and sending her chair crashing to the floor. Her new friend winced, whether from the shouted curse, the overturned furniture, or the dozens of stares that were suddenly focused squarely on her immediate vicinity.

"Miku, I gotta go. Need to babysit my little friend here," Kyoko said darkly, glancing at the blunette.

"Will... will I see you later, Dean?" the girl asked, sounding pathetically desperate to Sayaka's ears.

Kyoko only grinned again, mysteriously, and walked away, hoping the girl had more onigiri but realizing now was not the time to ask. Let her stew a little, first.

Outside, she punched the blunette's arm, as hard as she could.

"OW! You _ASS_!" Sayaka took a step back, away from the leather-jacketed girl, rubbing her shoulder.

"I can't believe you." Kyoko looked at her, fury cooling to a simmering anger. "You... you c-blocked me! You're... you're such a _Sam_. Bitch." She muttered, mostly playfully and without venom. Mostly.

Sayaka put her face in her hands, pressing against her eyelids until mercurial waves of light and color washed across them. She began walking; if the obnoxious girl wanted to follow her and actually see where she'd be sleeping, it was entirely her decision. Kyoko began following, and was ominously quiet as they walked back downstairs, turning in the opposite direction from the lobby. The increasing scent of chlorine, combined with a slight increase in humidity, told her they were getting close.

The blunette opened the door to the pool, another high ceiling looming far above the chamber that lay within, balconies overlooking the irregularly shaped swimming area with chairs and tables clustered about, curtained glass windows lining three sides of the room, presumably leading to individual rooms. She caught a glimpse of several costumed people, a few girls in swimsuits, and several of the animal-suited "furry" people like the one she'd seen in line.

Kyoko reached out an arm, slamming her hand into the door and shutting it forcefully.

"I thought you didn't _care_," the older girl said in a strange voice, scrutinizing the blue eyes that stared back in confusion, just a hair's breath above her own. She got on her toes so she could look down at the blunette instead.

"Huh?" Sayaka said, flustered. "I don't-"

"Last time. You said you couldn't care less about me..." Kyoko rubbed her mouth with her fingertips, thoughtfully. "So _that's_ why you were so annoyingly demanding back there-"

"What? ME!? I'm not... what are you talking about? If you wanna make... new friends, that's what we're here for I guess. Even if you don't even know their names. Or let them know yours. Who you want to spend time with is your business," she finished, a bit huffily.

"Mmm. Okay then. Well, that was _such _delicious home-made onigiri that Miku-san had, I think I'll go back and see if I can get me some seconds. After you show me the stupid room, of course."

"Fine, you do that," Sayaka said, obviously miffed.

"Fine, I will then." Kyoko smirked. It was just too easy to get the blunette all worked up. But even though she enjoyed a challenge, that didn't make it any less fun for her. "Who knows what else she has to eat." Smiling at the fuming girl ahead of her, she kept going. "You know what I'd love tonight? Clams. Or maybe some-"

* * *

Mami heard the argument before the door had even opened. "That is _so _not even a meat, people don't eat that you idiot, they make hats out of them!"

"Like you know anything about it, miss know-nothing," Kyoko retorted.

"It's a big giant rodent. Like a rat. You don't eat rats."

"You eat anything you can get, when you're hungry enough." The leather-coated girl's eyes had a brief, haunted look flash through them. "When you're starving..."

The conversation abruptly died.

Kyoko and Sayaka entered the room to find Mami, Homura and Madoka already there. There were actually two rooms, a set of inward-opening doors connecting them through the mutual wall. Both looked identical, luggage rack, nightstand, long wooden desk with a television, two beds...

Two beds. "Ah, so who's sleeping where?" the blunette asked Mami.

"You, Kaname-san and I will be staying in this room, Akemi-san and Sakura-san next door," she said definitively, trying as always to make certain that Kyoko's name never came first when she was talking about more than one person.

Sayaka sighed, feeling a little relieved, and a little something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on it... One thing she did know was that she wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. It was almost certain she'd be doubling up with Madoka, and the blunette knew from past experience that the girl had a tendency to kick in her sleep.

"Which Kaname-san?" Kyoko asked, having noticed the blonde noticing the older woman. Mami's golden eyes narrowed, sparkling dangerously, but the once-long-haired girl held up her hands placatingly. "I'm just making a point, Princess Politeness. Loosen up a bit! We're all friends here, _Mami_," she emphasized. "Feel free to join the club and refer to people as human beings instead of students in a class."

Mami frowned. "I'm going out for a bit. You are sleeping over there," she stated flatly, pointing through the open door to the other room, and stood up and left.

"That was abrupt," Sayaka said to herself, concerned.

Kyoko rolled her eyes. "Whatever, I'm outta here. See you fools later." And just like that, she left as well.

"I'll trade with you," Homura offered fervently.

"Uh, what-"

"Trade beds. Spots, rooms whatever. You'd rather be in there, I'd rather be in here..."

"Ah... what are you...? I... why would...? What makes you think I w-want to trade rooms?"

Homura looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Miki-san, its painfully obvious."

Sayaka felt her cheeks coloring, a little baffled but mostly embarassed. "Wait, you think... me and... No. _Noooo_, no, no," she chuckled unconvincingly, even to her own ears. "You, hah, you have no idea what you're talking about..." She decided to try and turn the tables on the transfer student's invasive assumptions.

"As long as we're having this little chat, Akemi-san, can you tell me what the hell you're doing getting Madoka-chan to come wearing those... invisible panties?" Sayaka asked scathingly, having allowed the anger to simmer for the past hour. "You should have seen how freaked out she was. She's not-" Her attempt to reason with the cold transfer student broke off, the raven hair swishing through the air as Homura was instantly in her face.

"Don't you dare presume to lecture me, Miki-san," Homura said through clenched teeth, biting off each word. "You know nothing of what I do for that girl," she continued.

The blunette's eyes narrowed, leaning in so she was just an inch away from the girl's purple eyes, noses practically touching. "She's _my _friend, and I'm going to look out for her no matter what you say, you creepy... ERRRG!" Breaking off, Sayaka tried to convey her frustration with a growl. Homura was not impressed.

The transfer student sighed. "Miki-san... it's not what you think, exactly." Homura resisted the urge to smash the girl's nose into her brain as the blunette raised a mockingly surprised eyebrow. "You know, Madoka's been having... difficulty. Since her wish," she added, looking at Sayaka expectantly.

"Huh? I don't..." the blunette began, confused. _Wait a second_-

"You've fought with her. You _know _what I'm talking about, Miki-san!" Purple eyes gazed at Sayaka, almost imploringly, the most expression Homura had ever displayed to her. Glancing back at the bathroom door, still closed, the black-haired girl went on. "Come on, put it together, moron!"

Sayaka pushed the girl back, hard. Homura didn't have time to play any temporal tricks, and she slammed against the wall, wincing almost imperceptibly. "_Nobody _calls me moron, you jerk."

Homura rubbed her shoulder. "Except Kyoko," she muttered, any subtle threat behind her statement lost to Sayaka's ears.

"K-Kyoko's... different," the blunette began, but she had nothing.

"Different," Homura sneered, then the sour expression was gone and she was once again looking at Sayaka almost hopefully.

Not wanting to say it, but feeling compelled underneath Homura's intense, beseeching gaze, Sayaka put words to her fears. "It's... it's not the transformations you mean, right? She's just-"

"Shy?" Homura interjected, flipping her long black hair over a shoulder arrogantly. "Yes, I've heard it before, Miki-san. The problem is, a witch isn't going to care if you're shy or not, it's just going to rip you open and feast on your entrails."

Sayaka _had _found it odd that, on witch hunts, Madoka made sure everyone was looking away when she summoned her magical attire, disappearing behind corners or inside buildings. She had spent whole evenings transformed, her magic slowly draining, insistently refusing to transform back, even at Mami-san's suggestion.

"She's embarrassed! Embarrassed to transform!" Homura's voice made it clear she considered this an Incredibly Big Deal.

The bluntte's face scrunched up as she pondered. "Well, there is that bit, where we're, well..._between _outfits..." she fell silent, thinking of slender, supple legs, pale and creamy within a glowing field of crimson, and shuddered delightedly. Homura looked at the strange expression on Sayaka's face, puzzled, waiting for a more concrete response to her concerns.

Sayaka felt Homura poke her. She frowned. "So, it's all for Madoka's sake, that's your story? Dress her like some sleazy kitten, all to help her out, huh? Nothing to do with those creepy stares and dropping your stupid bag like a million times?" She knew she wasn't being entirely fair, but certainly there had to be a better way of going about solving this problem...

"Do you understand why I-" The attempt to explain was cut off as the bathroom door opened, Madoka's cat-eared pink head poking out.

"Thanks for waiting for me!" the diminutive girl said happily. Then her mood sputtered. "What's w-wrong? You both look s-"

Sayaka put on a big smile, which wavered only slightly when she looked over at Homura, who was wearing her innocent face, which in the blunette's opinion was one of the most pathetic attempts she'd ever seen.

"Wrong?" Sayaka scoffed. "Nothing, nothing's wrong. Are you ready to head out or what?"

"Yes I am!" the pinkette squealed, finally comfortable enough to feel the anticipation building inside her again. She gave the blunette a sly wink, well, sly for Madoka at least. Homura saw through it pretty easily, and narrowed her eyes as the girl patted her backside. "Much better now, thanks Sayaka-chan! And thanks for waiting, Homura..."

And out they went.

* * *

**Thanks to all who've posted comments, as always I love them.**

**Regarding realism and setting: This is by no means an authentic representation of any con experience, but most of all not authentically Japanese. I don't know nearly enough about the culture, and from what little information I've gathered the experiences are quite different from more "western" cons. That said, I have very little authority to speak definitively on any topic, and con's are something I've experienced exactly once.**

**So, yeah, a little suspension of disbelief is required.**

**And a lot of the references, mannerisms, probably stereotypes and all sorts of other unconscious flavor that get's added are distinctly shaped by my own experiences. Keep letting me know when it gets too Westernized or whatever, so I can learn.**

**Just a heads up, they will be eating jelly donuts for breakfast.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5: Broken.**

A girl sat, walled off from the world. She was surrounded by sky blue, the back of her fishnet-wrapped thighs cold on against the seat. She looked down at the white tile floor, contemplating, the neck of the glass bottle poking out of her mini purse that lay against one of the stall's supports.

She knew she really shouldn't. It was just a bad idea. But Tomoe Mami had been wounded by her former friend's crass comments, feeling the weight of her responsibilities to the city at large, humanity and the power of good in general, and her new kohais Sayaka and Madoka in particular. Even the enigmatic transfer student Homura fit in there, somewhere.

She had no one else. Junko's offhand request that she get her "parent's approval" to spend the night at the hotel had cut deeply, a twisting bundle of memories flooding back into a mind that had worked so hard to repress them, and they were _pissed_ at having been shut out. Her parents had been taken from her... suddenly alone in the world, lost and confused, she had done the only thing she could think of to give her life meaning again: become a hero.

Or heroine, whatever. She smiled mistily, thinking back to people she'd saved... with so much effort spent not thinking about her lost parents, and the wish that could have been-_should _have been, she had no problem with the memories of the ones she failed. The one's who died. Her capacity for guilt was pretty much tapped out. What mattered was that she _tried_.

She was proud of herself, sometimes. She tried so hard. To be kind. Polite. Respectful. Helpful. Despite her carefully maintained distance, some of the students in her class looked up to her. She was a gifted student, math and language arts in particular coming easily to her. The harder she worked, the better role model she tried to be, the more worthy she became of the praise... the burden of pressure steadily increased, an exhausting weight crushing down on her shoulders. And on her spirit.

She sighed. She tried to avoid confronting the inner turmoil that lay just below the surface of her psyche; that was how she'd managed to stay alive and sane even though she was utterly alone in the world. It wasn't that people didn't acknowledge her, or talk to her; they did. Some people even liked her, she was certain. But she was disconnected from them. Like... they were a separate species from her entirely. Part of it was a feeling of having experienced a tragedy that none of the bright-eyed innocents in her class could begin to comprehend. Of all the people she'd met, only the wild, red-maned Sakura Kyoko had been capable of truly understanding the depth of her pain.

_And that ended so well_, the blonde thought, feeling a stabbing pain in her stomach.

The other, darker part told her that she was _unworthy_. She didn't deserve any praise, any friends, any respect. She'd wished the wrong wish, failing the ultimate test, and was trapped in her own personal hell of self-loathing, the bitter taste of regret like bile in her throat.

Wiping an eye, Mami sniffed._ Think about the good things_. She _wasn't_ alone, not anymore. She had friends! Sayaka and Madoka had been welcome additions to her nightly routine; a few days of hand-holding and babysitting had demonstrated their competence, and their backup had been invaluable. They were both so eager, Sayaka especially... sometimes it made her feel warm inside, before she'd push the girls away, just a bit, to maintain a dignified sempai-kohai relationship. She loved the girls, but getting too attached... she'd thought she had loved Kyoko, as well, and look where that had gotten her.

_Would it be so bad? To loosen up a bit, take of this accursed mantle of perfection for a time and just live a little? Even... even if I need a little help to do so?_

It had worked, the last time she'd allowed herself to... indulge. That much she remembered, even if she could remember little else. But it had been... fun. Stripping away the inhibitions had allowed her to unleash the girl she had wrapped away so tightly in careful consideration and pragmatic politeness. And she'd been delighted to find out that, just like Kyoko, she had a bit of an animal inside her, waiting to be freed.

She'd been the talk of the school for a week. She'd had fun, but more importantly, she'd _been _fun.

_Look out world_, she thought, just a little darkly, tilting her head back. She coughed, wiping her lips with a hand. _This cat's coming out of the bag._

* * *

Sayaka was about to enter her third hour of the convention, and she was starting to get worried. Having resolved not to dwell on her recent... encounter, she looked around the large, cluttered room, ignoring the toys and shirts and posters and dolls in the vendor's miniature shops, looking for her friends instead.

It had started out so promising, with an event that had sounded like fun to her her, even if Mami had seemed, at best, lukewarm about the idea. There hadn't been an awful lot to choose from. Or, the lot to choose from had been pretty awful, take your pick. What, exactly, was plus-sized cosplay, anyway? They were supposed to be hanging out together, like they'd planned in line, but that's not how it seemed to have worked out. She glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the distinctive drill-tailed blonde, or that jerk in the leather jacket. Failing, she turned toward the displays of figurines where she'd left her friend. And Homura. "M... Madoka?"

She couldn't even find the cat-eared pinkette, or the outrageously dressed Homura. They were nowhere to be seen.

Glowering angrily, she accidentally caught the eye of a pretty-faced elf in a dark green outfit. The girl, Sayaka noticed, increased her pace, looking at the blunette warily out of the corner of her eye. "Uh, nice outfit!" the blunette called out sincerely, but the girl kept walking, giving her a long look at the silver and blue shield strapped to her back._ So much for making new friends_. Then, it occurred to her. _How come I don't use a shield?_

Crossing her arms grumpily, Sayaka leaned against the wall and felt her pants riding up again. Angrily, vocalizing her frustration with a growl, she yanked them down, profoundly annoyed.

_I can't belieeeeeve they fucking ditched me_.

* * *

The "Fandom Challenge" had been a something of a disaster. Sayaka had convinced Madoka, and by extension Homura, to accompany her, and they'd entered a room full of people in the midst of an argument. At the head of the room, two sloppy looking gentlemen stood next to a white board, a series of brackets drawn, resembling the tournament trees their Phy Ed teacher liked to draw up.

Sayaka might have gotten into it; she felt passionate about the Pokemon vs Digimon debate, and had several strong arguments ready to be made at a moments notice, but the list wasn't organized like that. It didn't seem to be organized at all. Full Metal Alchemist vs Pokemon? It wasn't just anime; a very vocal subgroup argued for the primacy of Doctor Who, which Sayaka had always thought was a band. Madoka was looking uneasy and confused as the voices began to rise, participants resorting to the time-honored "louder voice = more powerful argument" fallacy as tempers rose.

It had been particularly galling to sit there and listen to a girl stand up and talk about how Pokemon, _Pokemon _of all things, had been responsible for the popularity of anime. And people had just sat there, eating the crap being shoveled down their throats, or in their ears, or however that metaphor worked. She'd been so tempted to shout that stupid girl down, but... _everyone was entitled to their opinions,_ she guessed. _Even if they were totally wrong_.

Even the Yu-Gi-Oh! fans.

_Seriously, though, how one even compares the formulaic and banal content of a show dedicated to brainwashing children into enslaving creatures and making them fight each other, all worry-free and without consequence, and therefore without meaning as well... to an intricately spun tale of loyalty, family, tough choices and the metamorphosis from child to adult... a story told in tragedy and death, celebrating the dark fate that is the destiny for all those who try too hard, reach to far to achieve their goal, and fail._ Sayaka almost raised her hand to contribute, but realized with a start that many other hands were up. Dammit, she realized, they were voting, and she'd just voted for the wrong one!

The number of hands held up had indicated Pokemon won. Sayaka cursed loudly, drawing a few glances, and she was dismayed to see Madoka's hand was in the air as well. FMA was crossed off.

Madoka noticed the question in Sayaka's eyes. "I don't know the other one. And I love the cute little animals!"

It took a little convincing Madoka to give it just five more minutes as voices rose, the second round of the strange process of elimination ratcheting up the volume another notch. Sayaka looked at the clock along the wall, realizing that they still had a quarter hour before the next set of events occurred. But if this was the kind of thing she had to look forward to... Suddenly, she froze, and lowered herself, slowly sliding down the chair.

"You're right, we should probably just go," she whispered to Madoka, who looked down at her in surprise.

"Sayaka-chan, why are you-?"

"Let's just go," Sayaka said, slipping down the aisle.

Moments before, she'd heard Kyoko's belligerent voice from behind her by the door. In that fake stage-whisper, the one where she wanted everyone to hear what she had to say in the most obnoxious way possible, Sayaka had heard the words that would forever signal a warning sign to her.

"Watch me win this," she had heard the girl say. Many times, in fact, and usually the thing that Sayaka watched was some piece of property, person, or Kyoko herself sustaining some form of critical injury. So she knew it was time to get out.

The fact that, glancing back, heart suddenly in her throat, thinking for one instant of radiant hope that Kyoko was talking to _her_, she'd instead seen the green-haired Vocaloid at the former red-head's side again had nothing to do with it. At all.

As Kyoko approached the men at the front of the room, Sayaka slipped out, accidentally bumping into Kyoko's new friend, sending her sprawling against the wall. "Whoops, sorry," the blunette muttered, unable to completely mask the hatred of the girl that seemed to shoot out of her eyes, even as she tried to smile apologetically.

The resulting expression made the older, taller girl pale visibly. She backed away. Sayaka knew she should feel bad, but...

Kyoko was beginning to yell as Homura closed the door behind them, starting to list all the ways Supernatural was far superior than Inuyasha, Fairy Tail, One Piece and most especially Doctor Who, starting out with a full-frontal assault upon the masculinity of the title character, morphing into symbolic interpretations of guns versus screwdrivers, and the dubious parentage of the good doctor himself, all within her opening two sentences, most of which were composed of expletives.

Having heard enough, which in this case was the sound of grumbling voices that meant a fight was about to break out any second, Sayaka stopped listening and walked away with her friends._ What was that girl's problem? How could anyone get so much enjoyment out of instigating trouble and being such a jerk?_

The next ten minutes had been spent, watching the doorway to the room as large, barrel-chested security men led away person after person. She counted two Naruto's, a pirate, a cat-eared Inuyasha and an overweight Pikachu among them. She thought she saw a Goku somewhere in there, too. Somehow, Kyoko was not among those led away.

* * *

Bitterly regretting Mami's absence, Sayaka allowed herself to be dragged to a panel proclaiming: We are the Asians of Hetalia! She hadn't been a fan of the show ever since it had caused her to flunk World History last year. However, later on one of the cuter voice actors who'd played a country was hosting a panel of his own, and she hoped this would get her in the mood to enjoy the barrage of upcoming references.

Attendance was surprisingly light. There were less than twenty people in the many rows of chairs, with a moderately wide aisle running down the middle of the room. The most noteworthy inhabitants included a larger, older woman dressed like some kind of Valkyrie complete with a strange hairdo and a chrome-painted corset. A bearded man was swathed within a grey, hooded robe and held a long wooden staff. It wasn't a cane, or anything like that. He held it as he sat, two meters of wood sticking up into the air at his side. It was kind of strange.

"Overcompensation," Homura observed, speaking to Madoka but making the joke for Sayaka's benefit. She knew the pinkette wouldn't understand the reference, and she couldn't contain her smile at the cute, confused look on Madoka's adorable face. Sayaka, for her part, was stunned by the rare display of wit the raven-haired girl had shared, and even more by the smile that seemed to light up the transfer student's face as she gazed adoringly at the pink-haired girl between them.

There was another man with long hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing thin-rimmed glassed perched on the end of his nose, sweating inside a black hakama with a blue kimono tucked into it. An emblem of four white diamonds arranged in a, well, a diamond pattern, pasted to his back and sleeves. Sayaka's sharp eyes noted the fake katana at his side had the proper tuska ito wrapping. A little girl sat next to him in a yellow shirt and long pink shorts. A pink scarf was tied around her neck, and she held a wickedly clawed stuffed cat at her side, long purple tufts hanging from the feline's snow-white ears and tail.

Instinctively, Homura made certain the creature's eyes weren't pink before holstering her intimidating pistol.

"I love your outfit!" the blunette whispered as she walked by. The little girl stared at her. Homura snorted. The little girl frowned, and flipped her black hair arrogantly over her shoulder. Homura choked.

The "Asians of Hetalia" were, in fact, little more than middle-schoolers themselves, and the jumbled proceedings typified the impression Sayaka had about the show as a whole, scattered and confusing.

Things got worse with the arrival of, well, you'll see.

"Who are they?" Homura whispered as she noticed two girls, a few years older than herself, enter the room loudly. Sayaka glanced back, annoyed at the rude chatter and unstifled giggling even though she was less than engaged with the current discussion rehashing the character traits of the major nations.

One was wearing a long, pink wig, her arms covered in decorative wristbands and bracelets. She wore sparkly makeup, a sparkly dress and dark hose. The other girl, this one blonde, wore a cowboy hat, of all things. And boots. It looked... slightly out-of-place.

As the four-person panel's stilted discussion died, the girls began to draw more attention to themselves. Sayaka didn't understand why first sat in the very back of the room, or why they turned their seats around, straddling the back of the chair; it looked uncomfortable. And, every minute or so, they'd stand up, move up a few rows, and flip the chairs around again before sitting down.

The one in the cowboy hat raised her hand. "Yes?" one of the girls, "Japan," actually, addressed the newcomer. "The girl in the cowboy hat," she added unnecessarily.

"How many apples does it take to make Japan?" The pink-wigged girl snickered, adjusting the bands covering an arm.

"Uh..." There was an awkward pause. "I... I don't..."

Madoka was looking positively gleeful, bouncing in her seat. "I know I know!" she was saying ecstatically.

"What is it, Madoka?" Homura asked, as confused as the blunette for once. She'd never heard that joke before in her whole life. She wasn't even sure it _was _a joke.

"It's Applejack, and my favorite, Pinkie Pie!" she exclaimed quietly, bubbling with the magical power of friendship.

"Which country is more powerful than Equestria?" the sparkly pink girl was asking.

"Well, I guess America and Germ-"

"Wrong. No one is more powerful than Equestria because nothing is more powerful than the magic of friendship."

"How many apples does it take to make a tree?" the blonde in the cowboy hat asked.

Sayaka shook her head, seeing the deer-in-the-headlights look of the panel of... moderators? Participants? She didn't know what to call them, but they were quickly losing control of the proceedings.

After a few minutes of pony jokes and observations, the kimono-clad man raised his hand. The small girl at his side looked disapproving. "Japan" called on him.

"How many Pinkie Pies does it take to make a bottle of glue?"

The room got real, real quiet. Silent. "What?!" Pinkie Pie squawked.

"You shouldn't have said that," Sayaka heard the little girl in the yellow shirt whisper behind her, knowingly.

"Three? Or just one, maybe. Or... just one hoof? If each hoof can make a bottle of glue..." said "Japan" as she struggled valiantly with the question.

Sure enough, Applejack was marching over toward the man, her hat tilted down pugnaciously over narrowed eyes, fists on her hips. After a few moments of tense, hushed conversation, she left, still casting dark glances backward. Homura and watched the exchange shamelessly, and expressed disappointment with the lack of a more physical resolution, but Madoka let her breath out in relief.

Sayaka finally decided to leave after someone had made a rather tasteless request after numerous historical slip-ups on behalf of the panel, as if to prove a point. "Would you pantomime the Japanese atrocities committed on Chinese soil that in large part have led to the strained relations between the two ancient and proud cultures that plague us to this very day?"

The panel looked at each other, confused, while the modest crowd murmured, "Japan" had stood up, drawing her plastic katana, advancing on "China," who was wearing a long, traditional-looking red silk dress. When "China" picked up a nearby flag and proceeded to beat "Japan" to the ground with it, holding onto her opponent's plastic sword in a way that was completely at odds with the spirit of the mock combat, Sayaka noticed several people shaking their heads sadly.

"Okay, let's move on to something else. Anyone a fan of shipping?"

The door closed behind them, and Sayaka felt the need to cleanse her pallete with a trip to the dealer's display section.

Everything was very expensive. Even the buttons.

* * *

Sayaka left Madoka and Homura at the figurine displays, heading to the bathroom. Following the printed map Mami had given her earlier in line, she made her way down the hallway, turning into a little corridor lined with thin, leafy plants.

Her eyes narrowed, noticing two figures entwined together at the end of the hallway._ Just what I need_, the blunette thought. She dismissed the idea of finding another restroom; she needed to go _now_. Hesitant, she walked over towards the bathroom door, watching the pair out of the corner of her eye. The one who's back was to her seemed to have a pair of those strange, red-orange-yellow striped horns sticking out of shoulder length brown hair.

The lighting was dim, but as she approached, Sayaka noticed something that piqued her interest; they were both _women_. The wet sound of them making out made her feel uncomfortable and a little disgusted, and she couldn't resist a parting shot as she stepped into the restroom, seeing fingers poking out through the black gloves of the lady's companion, busily at work across the woman's back and rear. "Get a room already."

Much to her dismay, as she involuntarily glanced backward the couple broke apart, the horned lady turning in her direction. The candy-corn spikes projecting from under her hair were oddly shaped, one tipped like an arrow, the other with a crescent at the top. "Don't you worry, young lady, we've _got_-"

A growing crescendo of horror swept through Sayaka, her stomach seeming to fall out of her body and plop to the floor wetly. _The way she said "young lady"... no, it couldn't-_

The woman's face was an unhealthy-looking shade of grey, almost stone-like in the faint light. Her dark button-up shirt hung open, and the black t-shirt underneath displayed a strange symbol; it looked like the letter "m" she knew from English, but its final line looping back up and ending in an arrow. Her lips were painted a shade of teal, and her dark eyeliner was vivid even through the glasses she wore. _Those glasses!_ "M-Mrs. S-Saotome!?" she heard herself uttering, unable to mask a very repulsed flavor of astonishment.

The woman's eyes widened as she got a look at the blunette's face. "M-Miki-san?! W-What are you doing h-here?"

Sayaka felt like curling up and dying. Saotome Kazuko was her English teacher. To run in to her, here of all places, now of all times, doing what she'd been doing... "Same as you. Er, well, not the same as what _you're_ doing-" she stopped, trying to start over. "I'm here for the ANIMitakiharaCON. I'm right _here_, outside this bathroom, because I need to pee." Secretly delighted to speak condescendingly to the older woman who so often spoke that way herself, Sayaka tried to see the person behind her teacher, but just got a glimpse of bare shoulders and longish hair.

"Ahem, well, yes, then..." Kazuko sputtered for a moment, caught off guard running into one of her students, and in such a... compromising, easily misunderstood act of affection for a dear old friend.

Something caught Sayaka's eye. A glossy-looking black leather jacket hung over one of the potted plants. She'd seen one just like it, earlier tonight. Not on Kyoko, but-

The blunette peered around her teacher, trying to get a good look at whoever- _No. It can't... there's no way_...

"J-Junko-san?!" It felt like the name was ripped from her throat.

"Watch your tone, young lady!" Mrs. Saotome was on Sayaka's case like they were back in class. "Where is your respect-" Fingers gripped the brown-haired woman's shoulder, and purple eyes framed by hair the color of flowering lilacs appeared over her teacher's shoulder.

"Oh, quit being such a stick-in-the-mud, Kazuko. I _told _the darling girl to call me that. Hello Sayaka-chan!" Junko said, somewhat breathlessly. She wiped her mouth with the back of a black fingerless glove, a faint trail of blue smearing across her cheek. "Incognito," the woman added, tapping her nose by way of explanation to the middle school teacher, who had a strange, queasy look to her suddenly. Sayaka couldn't help but notice the purple-haired woman's flushed face, or the slight tremble in her voice. "How are you enjoying the convention so far?" she asked politely.

Sayaka still really had to pee. _Really _bad. But...

"Um, it's alright, so far, I guess." Sayaka's foot was dragging across the tiled floor, drawing little circles with her toe. "It... looks like... you're... enjoying yourself?" she finished, awkwardly, cursing her luck. She'd never get that image out of her mind, now! Madoka had told her that Junko was friends with their teacher, but this was...

"I... I'll be going, now... I need a drink," Kazuko said, under her breath. "It was... nice running into you, Junko-san. Miki-san," she nodded. Smiling insincerely, even to Sayaka's eyes, the woman walked down the hallway, rubbing a loose-sleeved arm across her face. Sayaka looked for and saw a smear of the grey makeup leave a streak that Kazuko didn't seem to notice. Before turning at the end of the hallway, she turned back, glancing past the blunette at Junko, then disappeared.

Junko let out a deep breath. Glancing over, was caught by the swimming purple eyes, narrowed slightly. "I'm... sorry for interrupting?" Sayaka began, flustered. Junko had never been mad at her before, and she was afraid-

"How do I look?" her best friend's mother asked her. Her breath was powerful, a mixture of mint and something like her father's breath after he'd been out late and come home, lurching and all worked up about some stupid thing she or her mother had supposedly done.

"Um, great!...?" Sayaka responded loyally, trying to smooth any ruffled feathers.

Junko's unsteady gaze tried to hold her, and she cracked a brilliant smile. "You are such a good kid," Junko breathed, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Mah... Madoka is so lucky to have you for a friend..." Her eyes got a little misty, and Sayaka began to feel, if anything, more uncomfortable. "No, silly, what I meant was, do I have anything on my face?"

Sayaka peered intently; the smear of blue across her cheek, a little grey smudge along her chin and the tip of her nose. Still in the doorway to the restroom, she motioned the older woman inside. "You've got a little... um, well check it out in the mirror." Junko stepped in, none to steadily, and Sayaka caught the woman's outstretched arm as she stumbled. "Whoa, careful there, Junko-san." _These things are ripped_, the blunette thought as she grasped the rock-hard upper arm of the older woman. "Sorry. I... _really_ gotta go," she said as Junko steadied herself against the counter. Sayaka catching her own reflection staring out at her from the mirror behind, a little wild-eyed.

Mrs. Kaname continued talking to her, even after the stall door had closed. "Have you gone to any of those events you were telling us about in line?" she called over the sound of running water. Dabbing a wet paper towel across her face, Junko delighted in the feel of the cool water across her feverishly hot skin.

"Umm..." Sayaka said, a bit at a loss, being the kind of person who preferred to be left alone while doing delicate business. "Me and Madoka went to one about Hetalia, which is a show she likes. It was okay. She's out there, looking at figurines..."

"Madoka's out there? Thanks for the heads up," Junko said, turning off the water and straightening herself up. She waited until Sayaka emerged a minute later, wanting to speak eye to eye.

"Sayaka-chan, darling... what you saw-"

"None of my business!" Sayaka smiled, cheeks flushing as she began washing her hands. Junko stood behind her, eyes focused on the blunette's reflection in the mirror.

"It's not what you think, Kazuko and I are old friends..."

"Um..."

"There'll be a time, when you're older, that... well, the past will kind of rise up, and sometimes you feel the need to-"

"Oh, you don't have to explain anything to me!" the blunette assured, wiping her hands on her legs and backing up toward the door. She had begun to sincerely doubt she would ever have a chance at living to be older, anyway. "I just... well, um. I... won't say anything," she finished bluntly, just wanting this painful experience to be over with.

"Look, I know you're a good girl, Sayaka-chan. You do the right thing. If you're worried about Mr. Kaname..._ he knows_," she whispered, conspiratorially. Sayaka choked, having already received way to much information on this topic. Junko chuckled, then abruptly sighed, treating the blunette to another facefull of the sharp smell.

"But... Madoka wouldn't..."

Sayaka rolled her eyes. "Like I'd tell her about something like this?" She gestured randomly with her arms. "It's just... _her_?" she couldn't keep the disdain out of her voice.

Junko sighed, a wistful look in her eye. "Kazuko, well, she and I were good, _good _friends back in the day..."

"What is she?" Sayaka interjected, curious about the horns and wanting to change the trajectory of the conversation as quickly as possible.

"She's a troll," Junko muttered, and Sayaka snickered.

"You're the one who said it, not me! But no, I mean what is she dressed as?"

Junko looked at her flatly. "A troll. Homespun or something. She won't shut up about it," the purple-haired woman said with uncharacteristic exasperation.

Thoughts flitting here and there, the older woman looked at the blunette, eyes wavering ever so slightly. Sayaka raised her eyebrows, readying a shrug. "You are a good friend to my daughter, Miki-san," the woman proclaimed, getting a little formal. "She's... Madoka's so sweet, the world can seem like a rough place to her. It's friends, good friends like you, that she relies on. I'm glad; I know I can rely on you to keep your eye on her, keep her away from trouble when I'm not around..."

Sayaka laughed. "Usually, its her who keeps me from getting in over my head!" She saw the look of gratitude in the older woman's eyes, and went on. "You... you should be proud, to have raised such an amazing person-" Her voice cut off as the air seemed to explode from her lungs, the crushing arms of Junko encircling her tightly.

"Oh, sweet Sayaka." She squeezed the blunette harder; god knew her own parents were so cold all the time, Junko thought pityingly. "So confused..." She began stroking the back of the blunette's head, making her profoundly uncomfortable, the warm tingle beginning to permeate the blunette leading to a sense of confusion all its own. "If you ever need to talk, some advice or anything... I know how your mom tries, but let's face it-"

Sayaka squirmed delicately, but the hug went on, so she twisted a little harder. Junko finally caught on, releasing her grasp. "Um, I think I'm okay. I'm going... to go catch up with Madoka now, Junko-san. She's probably getting worried, heh, you know her..." She edged toward the doorway, smiling, leaving behind the misty-eyed, sadly smiling older woman as she made her escape.

_Okay, that right there never happened,_ she resolved to force herself to believe.

* * *

So. Alone. Fine, she could deal with that.

Sayaka pulled out the program, trying to figure out just what the hell she wanted to do.

* * *

**Your reviews are appreciated as always! I tried updating earlier, but it rudely failed to save. Let me know you thoughts, opinions, criticisms... hopes and dreams. All that good stuff.**

**Shadow, don't ever apologize for leaving a review, especially miniature essays full of details and ideas and awesomely in-depth thinking. That's the kind of stuff I read to get in the mood... to write.**

**Mami-san is one of my favoritest characters of all time. I hope you can believe me after the next chapter or two, but seriously she's so amazing, I wish so badly she'd been in more of the episodes. From her goofy little step-dance before transforming, to the way she carries herself, it would have been nice to get to know a veteran of the Witch Wars who didn't have to go all unscrupulous. Oh man, the dangling feet where her outfit transforms back into a school uniform... dammit Uroboros!**

**And don't count Homura out, she's wily. And her nemesis, preoccupied. Who knows?**


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

_Kyoko is the most annoying, obnoxious person in the world,_ Sayaka couldn't stop thinking for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. Having to stand around, looking at the manga she'd been perusing while that stupid fire-haired jackass had walked right up next to her with that dumb green-haired wh-

Taking a deep breath through clenched teeth, the blunette realized she wasn't being entirely fair. She was, actually, being entirely _un_fair. She didn't know anything about the girl tagging along after the cross-dressed Kyoko. For all she knew, the high schooler volunteered with the elderly and fed stray dogs. Still, she couldn't help it that something about the girl made the pit of her stomach clench with same feeling she got when she let things go a bit too far in battle... that dark, hungry hole inside her yearning for carnage and slaughter...

_Well, that's scary_, she thought to herself, shaking her blue hair and firmly deciding not to act upon those particular feelings. She was now sitting in a row of chairs along the wall around a corner, the omnipresent noise of background chatter only slightly muted. _I should have just walked away immediately, but it would have been exactly what that jerk had wanted. Proof that she'd managed to infuriate me further._ So she'd stood there, pretending to look at the books as the Dean Winchester wannabe hurled one line after another at the girl on her arm, and the incessant giggling and "Oh, _Kyoko_, you're _so _funny," made her want to slap... someone in the face. _Real names now, huh? _She wasn't sure who she wanted to hit; maybe both.

And Kyoko had kept looking right at her, like she was going out of her way to be obvious about her goading. The stupid look in those arrogantly narrowed shining ruby eyes..._ ARRGGG_!

"Do you have something against elves, or me personally?" The voice startled Sayaka out of her internal tirade, and she flushed as she saw the pretty girl with the elf ears and shield at her side. Tempted to hang her head, Sayaka instead shook it violently.

"No, sorry. And before... um. No, not you. Cool outfit," she added, figuring the girl might not have heard her while stomping away after the first encounter.

"Link, obviously." The green-shirted girl curtsied with a bit of a smirk.

"I love your shield. And Master Sword."

"But not my elf ears or skirt-pants? My poor, wounded pride..."

Sayaka felt bad for a second, before she saw the girl, 'Link', smiling. "Ah... heh. Yeah, go fishing here often?"

"Ouch, _touche_. I just thought it was funny, usually its the boys who look at the weapons first-"

"Nothing says girls can't like weapons," the blunette muttered, more than a little self-consciously. Despite this, she was more than a little impressed. _Her use of that word was contextually appropriate!_

"But you don't have any yourself?" The girl tucked an errant strand of blonde hair behind a long, pointed ear, raising her eyebrows in inquiry. She adjusted the green, almost shapeless cap over the top of her head, hanging down in a long tail behind her back like a limp green sock.

"No, I'm Saya-... Allura. _Princess _Allura," she tried to say haughtily, but it came out a little pathetic-sounding in her ears.

"*Sigh* allure indeed! And... a princess? Your worshipfulness, I have to inform you that I have a habit of rescuing princesses from the evil men who kidnap them..."

Sayaka felt flustered. She was having fun, but didn't really know how to play the damsel in distress. "I... I hope you don't need to. To rescue me, or anyone, tonight."_ What the hell am I even saying? Smooth_. "And technically I pilot one fifth of the universe's most dangerous weapon, so..."

Link opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. Sayaka noticed they were dark, dark green. "There's no one troubling you? No threat to your safety or your honor?" Sayaka blushed a little at that, _Did she mean_...? Dropping the act, Link just stared at her. "I could have sworn you were mad as heck about something when you stared at me with those death-eyes. Both times, actually," she added.

"Oh. No, that's... um. I don't-"

"Ah ha! It's a _he_, isn't it? I knew it, from that hurt, angry look in your eyes!" For some reason, Link was all smiles as she said this, and Sayaka couldn't help but feel prickly.

"Are you trying to cheer me up? It's not really working," the blunette stated.

"I'm not trying anything; I'm offering a solution, guaranteed! Look, whatever the problem is... what I'm saying is today is the first day of ANIMitakiharaCON! There's tons of things to do, places to go, events to see... it's the perfect place to forget whatever your problem is." The elf-girl stood up, holding out a hand. "Trust me, it will be waiting for you after the weekend. If you're anything like me, you've been looking forward to this for months. Come on. My friends don't arrive until tomorrow. Let's go watch this talk about girls in anime. I bet it's something you'd find interesting." She paused, looking earnestly at the blunette. "Don't let anything... any_one_, ruin something you've waited so long for!"

Sayaka considered for about a quarter of a second. This girl seemed cool. She wanted to go to the discussion on anime girls anyway, and Mami had been interested in that one so she might attend as well. And Kyoko, across the room, was staring at her obnoxiously from over the shoulder of the overly attentive Vocaloid, narrowed eyes seeming to spear across the space between them.

Her white glove clasped the proffered leather gauntlet, and she rose to her feet.

* * *

While wandering the hallways chatting with her new companion, Sayaka was again accosted by a furry. The same one, dressed in the wolf suit, with the big innocent-looking grin on its face that made it somehow creepier. It approached her, arms wide, looking for another hug. The blunette had almost buried her head in her hands, flushing with embarrassment. "Not again," she whispered under her breath.

This time she backed away, thinking it was time for someone else to take a turn appeasing this creature's incessant need for hugs. It seemed to realize this, putting its hands together in a pleading, praying way. She shook her head, and it fell to its knees, hands still clasped as it sliently seemed to beg.

People were beginning to say things like "Awww," and "Come on, it's just a hug,." _Why don't you guys go hug it, then?_ she thought but didn't say, not wanting to come across as a jerk to her new elf-girl buddy.

"Something against wolves?" Link asked innocently.

"No, it's just... I don't want this to become a habit. I already hugged that thing once."

"Oh. Then I get to do this," Link said excitedly. Drawing her shield and sword, she bent her knees, assuming a defensive posture between Sayaka and the furred creature on its knees. "We're not supposed to wave these around, I know," she admitted, swinging her sword in a flashy but very ineffective display of swordsmanship, at least to Sayaka's critical eye. Then she poked the kneeling wolf in the stomach. It fell backwards.

The furry got up, seeming to growl in frustration, then stomped off. The girls looked at one another, shrugging. "Uh, thanks," the blunette said, feeling strange about being rescued from a fake wolf by a pretend elf in a mock fight with a prop-grade weapon, when she'd fought real witches and seen real people die_-for real_-before her eyes. Link's eyes were bright and excited, and she smiled widely as they approached the doors.

When she entered the_ Females in Anime and Manga _event, Sayaka couldn't keep herself from scanning the audience, and to her dismay picked out the short, dark hair and faded leather jacked she was beginning to dread seeing. Kyoko was up towards the front, a open seat next to her inside of the otherwise-full row, obviously saving it for her friend.

Sayaka jumped as something touched her shoulder. "Jumpy, a bit?" Link asked with a puzzled smile. Seeing the blunette's sheepish look, it was easy for her to piece together the situation. "Oh! Is... _he _here?" she whispered, looking over at where the girl's sparkling blue eyes had been fixed.

Sayaka walked over to one of the back rows, as far away from the front as possible. "No, no it's not... not like that. And, it's... not _he_." Ugh, why did I emphasize it that way, she thought despairingly.

"Not a he... oh. _Oh_," the blonde elf said. "Oh?"

Sayaka felt her face burning, trying to explain. "Not like, well, _that_. I... it's... it's complicated," she finished lamely, the strange feelings bubbling insider her making it impossible to articulate what she meant. She wasn't even able to describe them to herself. Turmoil, mostly. The dark green eyes seemed like they were asking for more. "It's nothing. No biggie. Should be about to start," she abruptly changed the subject. Link grinned knowingly, and nodded.

From her vantage point at the rear, Sayaka saw Madoka and Homura enter and sit near the middle of the room just before things got underway. There was still no sign of Mami.

* * *

The panel introduced themselves, an author, a publicist, an "expert" of some kind and someone who's role was never fully explained. There were some line graphs and pie charts showing percentages and proportionality of the sexes, the roles of gender, and finally touching on the topic of orientation.

But then, during a round-table discussion, the lady author, wearing a ridiculous coat, had begun to wax philosophical.

"And what's up with all the gay subtext in so many of these manga nowadays? Doesn't it seem like it's getting a bit ridiculous to you? Tomoyo in Card Captor Sakura, Mint in Tokyo Mew Mew, the whole Revolutionary Girl Utena thing, Magical Lyrical Nanoha, I could keep naming them all day. Going back to Sailor Neptune and Uranus... what an amusing translation _that _planet has in English. Sounds just like their word for, well... look it up. She _was_ the butch one, I suppose. It seems a little cynical to me, like it's being cashed in on by the creators. They're just girls in half these stories... doesn't it detract from the whole innocent and saving the world vibe? And don't get me started on femslash and yuri-"

"You're completely and utterly wrong," a dark, threatening voice echoed throughout the room, people shifting in their chairs, turning to look at the black figure standing in the middle of the floor. "_And _you're a fool."

Extraordinarily embarrassed, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room staring at her, Madoka reached up, tugging at the skin-tight sheath of latex that covered Homura's arm.

"Ah, young lady, the question and answer portion doesn't happen until-"

Sayaka watched, grinning in amazement. _Oh. My. God_. The elf-girl shot her a questioning look, a little annoyed by the interruption herself.

"The fact that people like you pay such close attention to these relationships... how is that any of your business? These girls are out fighting to save your ass and the rest of the world, putting their lives, their _souls _on the line and in return you want to dissect their personal preferences?"

The panel looked at one another quizzically, someone mouthing the word "souls?"

"Why, you ask? Why the disproportionate number of non-traditional relationships within that specific community of women? What, exactly, do men have to offer at that point, let alone boys?"

"Well, for one thing," the woman began, addressing the audience with a mocking grin, "they have p-"

She never saw what hit her. Square in the eye, a vaguely banana-shaped object flew across the room. Cursing, cupping a hand over the left side of her face, the woman held the thing at arms length, dangling from a series of straps. Homura glanced around, taking the opportunity to arrogantly flip her long, black hair in the process. She met someone's eyes and nodded. Slightly.

"I believe Sakura-san has adequately countered your argument. Once you take procreation out of the equation, the biological compulsion for the continuation of the species disappears, leaving only the social pressures of tradition in their wake. Magical girls are there to help humans survive by confronting the dangers you mortals are too weak or blind to deal with themselves, not by making babies.

"Shouldn't it be '_we'_ mortals-" a man on the panel said, before he was drowned out by Homura's uncharacteristically passionate voice.

"Do the math. You have a highly gifted, incredibly specialized subculture that is essentially experiencing a completely different reality than the rest of humanity. The the way the world 'used to be' breaks down, and you're pulled into a dark, violent reflection of the reality you once assumed was immutable. When nobody is capable of understanding the dangers you confront, or even acknowledging the fact those dangers exist... the rules and traditions of the older, brighter world begin to lose their relevance. There's a disconnect; the two groups, magical girls and regular people, live in entirely different worlds.

"It's only another girl, another _magical _girl, who can possibly know what you're going through. Only she can appreciate the struggles, the worries, the hopes and dreams and fears of someone confronting the same problems and challenges and conditions as another magical girl. Think about it; say you're a doctor, and you come home after a really bad day at work. Somebody you were operating on died. Who do you talk to? Your school teacher wife? Your teenage son, your young daughter? The family dog? Or you're neighbor, who's a surgeon and, even if he hasn't experienced the same exact situation, knows enough about the reality you operate in to provide commiseration. Since he understands, on some level, what you're going through, he can empathize.

"And that is what love is all about, isn't it? Putting yourself inside someone else, trying to understand the world they experience, from their perspective. Because it's impossible to make someone happy if you don't understand them, and you can't understand anyone, _especially _not fourteen year-olds in the second stage of development, without an idea of how they are _feeling_." Homura paused, as if waiting for her premise to be challenged.

"Ah... very... interesting perspective, young-"

"Oh, I'm not done. This goes beyond the isolating mechanics of having your third eye ripped open to gaze upon the infinite chaos that lies just below the surface of what you previously saw as daily life. What are magical girls, at their most basic?" She turned around, scanning the crowd. Nobody raised their hands, so she turned back to the panel.

"They're girls, who... who transform into special outfits and fight the bad guys?" A man said, baffled by the girl's fervent passion about the issue. _Some people just can't distinguish between reality and fiction_, he thought in amazed dread. Nervously, he eyed the gun holstered at her hip; it looked disturbingly _real_...

"Not even a good try. They're _warriors_. They exist to fight, to destroy. To get rid of things that need getting rid of. The rest of it is incidental. Humans have had a population of individuals who specialize in this archetypal role, and nowhere was it more codified than in Japan... at least up until World War II. Magical girls are soldiers, ladies and gentlemen, protecting your ignorant backsides from getting eaten up by the evil lurking just beyond your vision, fighting an eternal war against the darkness...

"Let's take an adult, someone from this room, for example..." Homura pointed to a bearded, robed man she recognized from an earlier event. "You, with the staff. If you were thrown into a combat situation, for the purposes of this example it could either be a gunfight or up close and personal in melee, you are going to experience several inescapable sensations. Your pulse will begin pounding in your ears, your stomach will seem to drop sickeningly as your body pulls blood out from your torso to prepare the muscles it expects you'll need to use in order to escape imminent death. You're vision will narrow and increase its focus, your breath- and heart-rate will rise dramatically, and at some point you'll possibly lose control of your bowels, at the very least probably peeing yourself. You might throw up. You might even faint. These are deep-seated biological responses to situations of extreme stress. You can never be free of them; the best you can manage is to control them. Or failing that, contain them.

"Video games and anime make it sound fun, but deep down, you all know combat is scary. You have no idea, really; its_ fucking terrifying_." The room was almost painfully silent as she paused, a far-away look in her eyes giving the panelists a strong case of the creeps. "And no matter how bad-ass you think you are, when your life is on the line, you figure out what your real priorities are. Or what your priority is, since you only have one. Staying alive. That's called being a human. Don't delude yourselves, individually we're basically just another animal, after all.

"What if you weren't alone, though? What if you had someone there to back you up? Who you could depend on, or depended on you? Suddenly, you're not just in it to stay alive: you have someone else to think about. While they watch your back, you make sure they're not in danger either. It's a mutually beneficial, synergistic relationship. Together you are both better off than you would have been individually. You begin to trust one another, and nothing creates a stronger bond than saving someone's life.

"I hate to burst the bubble of all you chauvinistic masculine-types, but there is lots of historical precedent for this, but it's all from _men_. The ancient Greeks did it; those brawny muscle-bound Spartans enjoyed all manner of naked wrestling in their training, if you catch my meaning. Supposedly it helped build morale. Within the samurai tradition here in Japan, the mentor of a young warrior-in-training was encouraged to teach him all kinds of 'sword play,' to heighten their connection, form a bond that would serve both sides in the heat of battle.

"It is that sense of attachment that lets us continue on, fighting a never-ending battle, against all odds and with no hope of victory. It could be friendship between equals, or affection for an almost-sister, or something more... romantically charged. But there's nothing more fulfilling, more... erotic, than being with someone else who understands you, listens to you, _feels _for you, in a world that doesn't even acknowledge you exist.

"Human or magical girl, all we really want... all we really _need_, in the end, is validation. To have someone look at you, see your flaws and weakness and ugliness, and still find it in their hearts to value you. Appreciate you. How could a human ever appreciate a magical girl?

And then, poof, she was gone. The panel of experts looked around, wild-eyed, while the audience began to mutter uncomprehendingly. Was that part of it? Was she supposed to-

Someone started clapping. Awkwardly, at first, but with gathering speed, more and more of the audience joined in. Sayaka chuckled to herself, always finding it amusing to start applauding at whatever, and watching as people slowly but surely joined in. The applause lasted a minute, and the panel seemed to pull themselves together. The incident was dismissed as a prank, and the question and answer portion of the event began.

Nobody even noticed the cat-eared pinkette who'd disappeared from the room at the exact same time.

* * *

Kyoko fumed. Homura's soliloquy had been just about the funniest thing she'd ever seen, _and _she'd gotten to throw her prop at some wannabe egg-head writer lady. But despite the delightful chaos the raven-haired magical girl had made, her enjoyment had been short-lived.

She saw the blunette walking out of the event, her stupid pink helmet carried in one hand so her gorgeous blue hair shone across the room, unmistakable even in the throng of multi-hued wigs. And she was with that slutty looking elf chick she'd been talking with near the displays!

Kyoko looked at the seat beside her, the only one that had remained unoccupied in the first eight rows. She'd ditched the Miku Vocaloid, who'd been starting to get on her nerves with the laughing and the questions and talking talking talking. She'd done what the former red-head had wanted, and was no longer needed. Kyoko had heard Sayaka discussing this event earlier, which in all honesty the veteran was not the least bit interested in. But she had this scenario all worked out; Sayaka showing up, asking if the seat was taken, unable to resist as always... graciously letting the blunette sit next to her. Maybe even letting her know she was saving it just for her...

Red eyes, already narrowed, narrowed even further. The merest slit of ruby-red shone through her eyelids, thinking hard. Some of the things Homura had said... Her hands clutched around the wrinkled, twisted paper bag that held what she'd gotten for the blunette.

There was only one solution to this that she could think of. She stood up, walking out of the room. The trash can seemed to call out to the present gripped tightly in her hands.

The elf girl had to be taken care of. Taken out of the equation.

Permanently.

* * *

**Maybe one more, possibly two, before I go back to my other story?**

**Noticed Hitomi yet? Homura, at all convincing? I was trying to think about something she'd argue about, and how she'd argue it... enough to impress Madoka?**

**Thanks for your reviews, love to read your comments as always. Such good ideas. Please, please continue.**


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: Carrying on

Sputtering, Sayaka wiped her sleeve across her eyes. "Sspppt! What the _hell_?!" The water had soaked her hair. She felt the trickle of rivulets running down her cheeks, her neck, dripping off her chin and soaking her shirt.

Kyoko stood, holding the unstoppered flask at her side like it was no big deal. "Hmm, not possession then."

The blunette felt her face flush, the discomfort of her now-soaking white outfit that clung to her skin doubling her sense of irritation. "What is your problem, Kyoko?" Sayaka demanded, wiping her face with her sleeves. "This isn't funny you ass!" This was added once the leather-jacketed girl started to laugh obnoxiously.

"You... two know each other?" the elf-looking girl at Sayaka's side asked, brushing off some stray droplets of the water Kyoko had tossed right in the blunette's face. She didn't sound or look particularly amused.

Ignoring the interloper, Kyoko addressed the blunette. "You've been acting so strange, I thought for sure it was a demon. So, the holy water."

"I'm acting strange? What are you... I get the reference, you idiot, but now I'm soaking wet."

"That's what _she _said." Kyoko looked right into Link's fairly hostile stare, noting the deep emerald hue. _Even our eyes clash._

"_Someone's _acting strange," Sayaka's new friend said, "but I don't think its you, Princess." She held her own while returning Kyoko's stare, mostly because she didn't know the girl, and had never had the misfortune of encountering anyone close to her level of dangerousness. She just didn't appreciate the fact that someone had dumped a bunch of water on the girl she was hanging out with, or getting hit in the crossfire herself.

"You are such a jerk! Just... leave me alone!"

Kyoko's eyes were suddenly wide. "You're not wearing a bra!"

Frowning, the blunette glanced around to see if people were nearby. Of course, there were lots of people walking around, and many appeared to be staring directly at her, others' turning their heads to see what all the commotion was about. Link looked at her, eyebrows raised. "I... you could see the stupid straps, what was I supposed to do? Wait, how can you..." The elf-eared girl glanced down significantly, and Sayaka looked down at her white uniform... and immediately crossed her arms firmly.

"Oh you _bitch_..." she whispered, glaring at Kyoko with all the hatred she could muster, which was quite a bit.

Kyoko growled, stepping forward menacingly. "That's my line, _jerk_." The angry look disappeared in an instant, replaced by a puzzled expression. "What's _wrong _with you? Can't ya take a stupid joke anymo-"

"I think maybe a trip to the restroom is in order. Let's go," Link said, pulling Sayaka by her upper arm. She put herself between the two friends, not really understanding the hostility but working enough out to know separation was in order, before things began to escalate. Kyoko made as if to follow, but a leather gauntleted hand shooed her off. "You... you go find your entertainment somewhere else." Stopping, the former red-head ran her fingers through her hair, for a moment uncomprehending of its absence.

"Listen here, _whoever_ you are, _nobody _tells me what to-"

Sayaka turned around angrily, but it was Link who spoke first. "She asked you to leave her alone, man. Seriously, you need to go relax or something."

Kyoko stood stiffly, balanced between saying the first thing that came to mind and outright violence. Clutching her remaining inch or so of hair, she watched as the two turned around and headed down the hall, still unable to decide on a course of action.

A minute later, alone in a hallway crammed with people, she settled for getting some food.

* * *

"You don't need to get involved. I can fight my own battles," Sayaka said grumpily.

"Yeah, I kinda realized. It was just, that girl was so... annoying. I had to say something, and if not telling her to leave it would have been telling her exactly what I was thinking, and there were kids around, so..."

"Whatever," the blunette mumbled tiredly. "Just, in the future, leave her alone. She's..."

"The one you have your panties in a twist over?" the green eyed girl supplied innocently.

Sayaka felt herself pale, then almost immediately flush. "I... I was _going _to say, she's _dangerous_." After the fifth person walking by had seemed to go out of his way to stare at her brilliant red cheeks, the blunette turned away, hiding her face in her white-gloved hands. Even a glance at the pink trim she'd painstakingly sewed on failed to cheer her up. "But... I suppose you could put it that way, at least if you don't mind sounding like a crude asshole. Is... was it that obvious?"

Adjusting her dark green tunic, the elf-eared girl gave her a knowing look. "Um, _yeah_. Some very unhealthy sparks flying through the air back there. But then again, I'm an elf so I can sense all kinds of hidden-"

"Wait a second, did you just say you're an _elf_?" a vaguely familiar voice, harsh and slightly out of breath, drew the attention of both girls. Turning to look over her shoulder, Sayaka saw the slightly chubby man who'd been the only one to recognize her costume at the convention. "An ELF?!"

Sharing a baffled glance, the girls shrugged simultaneously. "Uh, yeah. I'm Link, see-"

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" the man shouted, Sayaka watching in fascination as his spittle flew through the air. The man looked as sweaty as ever, but something about the crazy look in his eyes made her uneasy. "Elf? Link is a Hylian!_ HI LEE EN_! If you were Link you'd know that!"

"Dude, back off!" exclaimed Link as the man made a grab for her sword.

"You don't deserve to have th-OOOoooof-"

As the man dropped to the floor, waves of agonizing pain coursing through his body from a freshly bruised kidney, Sayaka stood back, surveying the scene. Nobody seemed to have seen the brief assault. Looking at her new friend, who nodded that she was alright, Sayaka bent down over the man's quivering, curled up body.

"That was dumb. What the hell, man?" She gazed down, the man's eyes blinking rapidly as a whimper escaped his lips. "It's hardly fair criticizing other people when you're not even dressed up yourself."

"And seriously, Link's not an elf?" Link asked harshly. "Elf ears, elf clothes, elf hat... little fairies follow him around and help him out. And you're saying he's not an elf?"

"Just. Joke. But. You. Hylian," he gasped.

Sayaka rolled her eyes, mostly for her partner's benefit. She grabbed the man by the collar and hoisted him up, missing the startled look on Link's face as he dangled in the air momentarily.

"You... you're costume," he said shakily, regaining his equilibrium. _I hope the impact didn't dislodge another kidney stone_, he worried as he felt his back gingerly. "It's good. It's not the best I've ever seen, obviously, but it's one of the better ones here, at least. W-wait, are you not wearing a bra?"

Sayaka crossed her arms again. "Uh... thanks, I guess?"

The man looked at her hopefully. "If you want my advice-"

"We don't," both girls said with utter finality, in unison, again. Looking crestfallen, the man walked away with slumped shoulders and favoring his right side, the one with the undamaged internal organs.

"Um... okay, that was a bit strange. What were we talking about again?" Sayaka hoped the discussion would be forgotten, but Link had been pretending. "Oh, right, you were going to dish the dirt on that dangerous girl who dresses like a boy..."

The blunette sighed, looking into the expectant eyes of her new friend.

* * *

Madoka was feeling oddly conflicted. She and Homura were walking through the dealers' displays for the seventh time; she was having trouble deciding between a 1/24th MLP figurine and a stuffed Artemis cat. She was leaning towards the cat... Sailor Moon and a plush kitten, two of her very favorite things. But, well, _ponies_...

Since they'd left the show about anime girls, she had felt a little dazed. Seeing Homura standing up, arguing and talking during the event had led to an uneasy feeling of extreme ambivalence. On one hand, it was frankly embarrassing to have everyone staring at her, at her friend... but what she'd said had been, well, parts of it had been difficult for Madoka to follow, but other parts had been _exhilarating_.

"There's a Pinkie Pie, and ooo, there's Fluttershy," Homura pointed out, knowing her most special friend's preferences with startling precision. At times, it was almost like she knew what Madoka wanted before she'd even thought to ask for it._ She knows me so well, but I barely seem to know her_...

"What's wrong?" The raven-haired transfer student stared at the pinkette in concern. She had that far-away look in her eyes... Homura sincerely hoped she hadn't screwed things up, but she'd felt so compelled to make her case. Not to that stupid panel, or the meaningless audience. To the pink-haired, cat-eared, short-skirted creature she was utterly obsessed with.

Unfortunately, she hadn't really realized that until after her impromptu lecture. Stupid subconscious. She hoped it hadn't sounded too rehearsed... it was something she'd given a fair amount of thought to, a way to pass the time in classes she'd repeated dozens of times. She'd even dabbled a bit into some fan fiction. Mostly stories of unrequited love between two girls...

"Did... d-did you mean all that s-stuff?" Madoka's suddenly clear gaze held Homura in its pink brilliance, dazzling her. "About... well, g-girls being the... the only ones w-who c-can..." Trailing off, she tried to express her thoughts with her eyes.

"I... what... um, that is... do you..." Madoka couldn't help grinning as the overly-composed transfer student struggled to form a coherent sentence.

* * *

"So, she made a new friend? That's why you're all twisted up inside?" Link shook her head, strands of long blonde hair coming loose from under her hat. "I didn't figure you as the insanely jealous type... and I've met a few of them in my time."

Sayaka was outraged. "_What_? Me? Jealous? _Me_? What? _Jealous_?"

"Well," the elf-eared girl said simply.

"You're defending _her_? She... she ditched us! Left the whole group, and, well, left us for some... hmm. I do sound a little jealous, don't I?" she observed wonderingly.

"A little. Maybe a smidgeon. And you were looking to spending some, um, quality time with your boy-girlfriend?"

_Sigh_. "I guess. Yeah."

"Um, if you don't mind my asking... where is the girl you think 'stole' your friend from you? And, for that matter, where are these friends of yours that Kyoko-san abandoned?" she added slyly.

"What? They're... well, I lost them a while back. Seriously, they were supposed to... to wait, but then I ran into my friend's mom making out with my teacher, and..." Link's eyes were wide, and her mouth just starting to form a question, but Sayaka continued, heedless. "And Kyoko, I don't know. I... I guess I haven't seen her since before the anime girl thing." She paused, considering. "Maybe that Vocaloid got sick of her annoyingness."

"Annoying_ness_?" Link looked at her with disapproval. "Well, despite your friend's... antics, she does have a certain... magnetism. I thought she was actually a boy, at first, she pulls it off pretty well. Cute, too." She smiled. "If she was a he..." Sayaka hadn't thought about this aspect of her new friend at all, except the stray glance at the tight brown hose covering her thighs. "I doubt she got left behind, myself." She looked at Sayaka expectantly.

Sayaka waited, not seeing where her friend was going, the same strategy she used in math class when she got called on to answer an equation. Finally Link got impatient. "If the girl didn't leave her..." Still nothing. "Come _on_. If the _girl _didn't leave _her_, Kyoko must have_...left the girl, maybe_? See where I'm headed with this?"

Sayaka's eyes slowly widened as she saw the possibilities. "You... think...?"

Link shrugged. "Hell if I know. Far as I can tell you're both crazy. You were talking about all her, um, suggestions before you got here. Can I ask... how you responded?"

"Ah... well, everyone was around! What was I supposed to do, she's being all crude and Madoka gets all funny when-"

"Consider my question answered." The girl in the green tunic smiled. "Now, next personal and invasive question... do you, well, want to take her up on the offer?"

Sayaka winced. That was a tough one. "I... I don't know. I... well, it's just that... I'm, um, nervous." She looked at the green-eyed girl. "Can I ask you something? Have you ever, you know..." Link kept her mouth shut and her smile hidden, enjoying the discomfort of the blunette. "Done it?" she finished in a whisper.

"Oh sure, tons of times," Link said, her turn to blush. "Well, not tons, but... yeah."

"What's it like?"

"Um, I... I wouldn't know, not what you're asking. I... I'm not into the girl thing, you know? I don't even really know what you'd do..."

"No, I mean, like with a boy. Does it, you know, hurt?"

"But I thought, you and her-"

"Yeah."

"But, she's a girl."

"Well, yeah, but... just answer the question!" Sayaka finished, flustered and unwilling to explain the circumstances further.

Link frowned. What exactly had she stepped in the middle of? This place was fourteen flavors of crazy already, with the Furries and the harassing perfectionists and that guy in the wizard outfit with the staff.

This was exactly why she stuck with boys. So much less drama.

* * *

"Th-those things, you said, about... about h-how only a magical girl could... appreciate another magical girl. D-do... do y-you appreciate m-me that w-w-way?" Madoka could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth, amazed she wasn't blushing like the setting sun. Homura was even more astounded, startled by the dispassionate chill of her companion's words, and dismayed at her own pale skin's betrayal of her deep and overwhelming sense of embarrassment... and _terror_.

"The w-way you... you look at me, sometimes," the pinkette continued, sounding a little shocked, her face thoughtful. "And... and how you're nice to me, and nobody else... I always wondered. What m-made me special?" She looked at Homura with an inscrutable expression, an absolute first in all her experiences throughout the timelines.

The black-haired transfer student tried pleading to Madoka with her lavender eyes, begging her to stop. Something was in her throat, she couldn't speak. Couldn't even swallow. _Ah fuck, I screwed it all up. Not again_...

"And... the way you spoke back there... passionate! I've never seen that side of you, before, Homura-chan," the pinkette admitted, the tone of her voice starting to change. _Thaw_, Homura thought, or hoped.

"It... made me feel... strange."

Homura blinked a tear back. "I... I'm sorry, Madoki, if I've... if I've hurt you in any way-"

"And that name! Doki doki. Yes, that's... kind of how it felt. Not bad... just kind of squirmy, on the inside. And," she added, suddenly bashful, "my heart was pounding so hard it hurt..."

Homura had never thought to be thankful to whoever had died in order to give her a new heart, but at that moment she knew her old one would have burst instantaneously at this very moment, and silently thanked whatever cruel and capricious god had caused the premature death of her donor.

* * *

The first thing she noticed was the noise. Even before the humidity or the smell of chlorine, she could hear the shouting. It sounded like some people were having a _real _good time.

The pool itself was surprisingly empty. Some people on the balconies above were perched along the railing, staring down. Probably wondering what all the fuss is about, Kyoko thought to herself, knowing that despite her carefully-maintained expression of disinterest, she shared in their curiosity.

Music started up. A popular song she couldn't quite place, until she heard the tinny sound of a very familiar voice, amplified over speakers.

As Kyoko approached, she saw the crowd of people gathered around one of the hotel room entrances. They were mostly high-school, even university aged, many drinking from plastic cups she assumed did not contain mere water. Like a self-destructive moth to a flame, she felt herself pulled onward, recognizing the voice... a little huskier, a bit slurred, but definitely _her_.

Mami stood on top of a plastic table, microphone in one hand, gyrating wildly as she sang at the top of her lungs. Admiring eyes were glued to her, the men surrounding the table in particular wearing their leers openly. Kyoko shook her head as Mami swayed dangerously in the midst of a little dance step very similar to her transformation routine.

"Kyoko-shan! Hey, Kyooookooooo!" Mami shouted into the microphone, noticing the short-haired veteran standing at the edge of her admirers. "Come here! Thish is my friend, Kyoko-shan, everyone!"

Glowering a bit, Kyoko accepted the friendly looks with a dismissive wave of her hand, missing the puzzled expressions that flitted around as some of the onlookers tried to parse her gender. She approached the table, where Mami was being helped down by cluster of eager young men. "Thank you _sho _much, boys."

"A-anything for you, Mami-san," said one handsome lad, grinning. The rest agreed profusely. Kyoko rolled her eyes, dragging the blonde away.

"Um... ow? Kyoko, whash gotten into you?"

"Wow, _again_, Mami? You remember what happened last time-"

"Shaddap. You're not the bosh of me, Shakura Kyoko. Leeme alone, I'm having fun for oncesh in my life."

Glowering, Kyoko led Mami into their hotel room. "I... I need to... I need some advice, I guess." The former red-head was nearly choking by the end of her request. Her only consolation was the hope that Mami would be as clueless as last time about what had happened during her period of inebriation.

"Advishe? You? Are you feeling well?" Mami leaned over, toppling out of bed and dragging Kyoko to the floor. "Whoopshie!"

Mami stood up unsteadily, falling backwards upon the bed. Kyoko simply stood up. "Well? How can I help, mish I know everything?"

"I- what? I... well, I got a problem. Or, maybe, created one. It's... kinda hard to sort out. Could I... do you think... Am I BORING YOU?!" Kyoko suddenly shouted, as Mami yawned hugely. Kyoko couldn't help but yawn herself, too. God how she hated that!

"Yesh, I think you are." The blonde let Kyoko sputter for a few moments. "Shpit it out. I know what thish ish about."

The former red-head looked instantly relieved. "You do? Well, help a sister out then! What, um, should I-"

"Thatsh jusht it, Kyoko. Right there. You are imposhible to talk to. You don't lishen, you int-"

"I do to listen! I'm listening to you, aren't' I?" Kyoko asked crossly.

"You _interrupt._ You ignore what people shay-hic!" Covering her mouth delicately, Mami hiccuped again, her curls bouncing along her shoulders.

"Only when people say meaningless crap! Which is about all this conversation is. I'm out of here! Try to pass out _in here _when you get around to it. Don't need to be rescuing you like last time-"

"Oh jusht shut up. Thatsh another thing, you alwaysh run away..."

Kyoko slammed the door, thinking _What a bitch_. Mami smiled to herself, thinking_ This bed is so soft_.

By the time Kyoko had passed through the pool area, Mami was lightly snoring in a position her neck would later cause her to regret. Admittedly, the former red-head had taken a moment to push a wolf-suited Furry into the pool, pausing to laugh at the sight of the head, floating in the water while the furious looking dirty-green-haired girl floundered, splashing and struggling to keep her head above the surface._ Huh, didn't know girls were inside of those things_. Kyoko considered, but ultimately it made little difference. Something about the animal costumes pissed her off. "You're lucky I don't have any silver bullets for this thing!" she shouted, brandishing her sawed-off shotgun.

Feeling slightly better, or at least temporarily mollified by ruining someone else's day, Kyoko dragged her feet as she returned to the convention area, thinking hard, ignoring the panicked shouts of "She's drowning! For the love of God someone help, she's drowning!" The only thing left tonight was that stupid dance, but maybe...

* * *

**One final part, before I'm done.**

**I appreciate the reviews, many thanks for your comments.**

**I'm curious if anyone has any ideas about a resolution for this first day, or something you'd just like to see happen. Anything you feel is unresolved? There were so many cool ideas and comments I got to read, if you have the time or the inclination, feel free to post suggestions in the review or PM me, I have a vague notion but would love some fresh points of view. And maybe if you'd like another, _final_ final chapter in a less-traveled, different rated section of fanfiction, let me know too.**

**Hope the shlurring wasn't too annoying.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight: The End.**

**(Of the first night, at least.)**

Sayaka glanced around through squinting eyes, not in a racist way but because there were freaking lasers shooting directly into her face. That's what it felt like to her, at least.

The big room, what she thought of as the Main Room, somewhat unimaginatively but accurately, had been transformed. The lighting was very dim; neon green, brilliant orange and electric blue provided an atmosphere of spooky luminescence, not dissimilar to the confusion found within a witch's labyrinth. Tiny circles of light and strange symbols carved out of a tricolor rainbow appeared to float around the room, spinning in strange patterns.

She was starting to get a headache.

The thumping echoing through the chamber, through her body, making her very bones seem to rattle inside her, was reminiscent of a beating heart pumping for all it was worth in the heat of battle. She might have enjoyed it, if it hadn't been so _loud_.

Looking around the room again, Sayaka saw the array of speakers from which the noise came; it was as if she could feel the percussive force of each beat wash over her. Looking over at Link, who was likewise surveying the dance floor with no signs of wanting to participate, Sayaka leaned over. _Really, glow sticks and wristbands? _"What do you think?"

"WHAT?" The elf-girl cupped an ear, leaning closer.

"I SAID WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

Link wiped her ear with the corner of the green tunic she wore, smiling. "Say it don't spray it. This would have been so cutting edge in 1990," she said like she knew what she was talking about, and hadn't cobbled together an observation based upon some rather vague references from popular culture.

"WHAT?" asked Sayaka, feeling like her ears were starting to ring.

"Nothing, let's-"

"WHAT?"

"NOTHING! LET'S MAYBE MEET UP TOMORROW? I THINK I'M GOING TO GO TO BED!"

"OKAY, THANKS FOR TODAY, IT WAS FUN HANGING OUT WITH YOU!"

Link smiled. "THE FEELING WAS MUTUAL! GOOD LUCK TONIGHT, DON'T DO ANYTHING I WOULDN'T," she teased.

THANKS FOR ALL THE... ADVICE AND STUFF TONIGHT."

"MADE ANY BIG DECISIONS?" her new friend asked.

Sayaka tried to shrug eloquently. "I DUNNO, I'M STILL NOT SURE I WANT TO LET HER IN MY PANTS."

Of course, it was during that last sentence that the music abruptly came to a halt, and in the sudden, ringing silence, her last eight words echoed across the space. There were a few wolf whistles and a cat-call or two. Someone shouted "Then do it!" Somewhere, amid the throng of necks suddenly turning to seek out the mysterious shouter, Homura had the presence of mind to clamp her hands over Madoka's ears. Along the wall, Junko smiled as she took short, panting breaths, recovering from her forty-five straight minutes of dancing._ Poor thing, so desperate for attention_, she thought, pulling up the tight purple brassiere one-piece that had begun to hang dangerously low. She took one of the several cool beverages offered to her by a pack of handsome young men, nodding her appreciation graciously as she gulped down her drink.

Link's mouth hung open for a moment, looking almost fearfully embarrassed. Sayaka pretended to look around as well, as if to see who had shouted such a provocative statement. Her face was on fire, and it didn't help that the closest people were staring directly at her.

Kyoko would have choked on the cup of lychee jelly she was devouring if she'd heard the shout, but the girl currently dressed like a boy was not in the room. She continued to slurp them down, using her tongue to reach into the nooks and crannies for every last deliciously gelatinous drop.

She was somewhere else. Waiting.

* * *

Leaving the flashing lights, Link blinked the spots out of her vision as she walked down the hallway. She never noticed the shadow that emerged from an alcove littered with empty plastic cups, silently stalking behind her, cat-like, until they reached the end of the hall. She turned a corner, her stride confident, only to have her heart-rate triple as something behind her went "_PSSST_!"

She spun back, seeing a flash of crimson...

And then, nothing.

* * *

Standing there, watching the scene before her with no small amount of awkwardness, Sayaka felt a cold presence come up behind her. She spun around at the eerie feeling, only to see the black-from-head-to-foot Homura. Except for the pale crescent moon of exposed chest, or her alabaster complexion of her blank face, which reflected the bouncing, scattered lights in muted flashes of color.

"Ah, hello Akemi-san," the blunette began uncertainly. "That sure is a lot of... glow sticks you're wearing. Where's Madoka-chan?"

"She'll be here shortly," Homura said with unseemly anticipation. "But, before she arrives..." She held out a glossy black arm, a crumpled bag dangling from her finger and thumb.

Sayaka looked at the transfer student, but was unable to make anything out of her blank expression. She took the bag when Homura pushed it towards her. "Um, thanks?"

"It's not from me, idiot." Homura said frigidly. "It's from..."

"Madoka-chan?"

Homura rolled her eyes, flipping her long hair over a shoulder. "Sakura-san."

Sayaka's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. "What? Why would she... why would you...?"

"Don't be a fool. Open it up."

Looking inside, the blunette found, of all things, a book! A manga with a kind of creepy looking blond chick and black-haired girl._ Shiroi Heya no Futari._ "Huh," she muttered to herself. "What the hell...?"

Homura continued to stare at her. "It's one of the older yuri manga out there. One character, Resine, joins a new boarding school only to find her roommate is this other girl named Simone, a rebel who is rude to her from the very start. Hmm, _why_ does this sound _familiar_?" she asked rhetorically, Sayaka's blush confirming she understood what the transfer student was getting at. "However, despite the dubious nature of their relationship, Resine and Simone end up falling in love... "

Sayaka stared hard at the book, mind working furiously to absorb this... revelation.

"S-so... Kyoko gave this to you? To give to me?"

Homura's eyes narrowed. "Yes," she lied.

"That doesn't sound like-"

"Go talk to her, you fool! It's so... obnoxious, how you two flaunt your... whatever." Sayaka could have sworn Homura sounded jealous, if she hadn't know her to be a soulless automaton. "It's beginning to make me nauseous."

Homura smiled inwardly, seeing the seed she'd planted begin to take root. Sayaka had that pained look on her face that meant she was trying to think hard about something.

Things were starting to line up. With Mami having taken herself out of the picture, she only needed Sayaka and Kyoko out of the way... what better way to accomplish this than to get those volatile girls together, knowing they'd keep each other occupied until the inevitable explosion...

* * *

Madoka had hoped to be asked to dance, although she only had the haziest notion of what to expect from this kind of set up. The music was certainly... different. She looked at the shiny-black figure at her side; the gloss of her skin-tight suit transforming her body into a series of indistinct reflections of the multitude of glowing wrist-bands and necklaces she wore. The pinkette smiled, adjusting the glowing pink halo that Homura had made for her and placed on her head.

Several people had looked like they were approaching her, at least, they were _looking _at her before they started _staring oddly _at the transfer student at her side. Their friendly looks had disappeared, and each and every one turned away without giving her another glance. _Am I that plain?_ wondered Madoka despairingly. She'd caught the looks the boys had given her chest, just before turning away... _It's not fair_. Mami, and for that matter her mother, got all the attention.

She'd forgotten about the precautionary sticker Junko had slapped on her, which Homura made every effort to point out. And failing that, Madoka had missed the raven-haired girl's backup plan.

Homura stared at another young man who approached, distinctly mouthing the words, "I'll kill you," complete with the finger slicing across the throat. He looked confused, the spiky blonde wig swaying as he came to an abrupt stop, so she followed up with a finger suggesting the next course of action. It worked, he retreated; as they all did, one after another. He would later describe the feeling as "Like the time I was downtown, and this crazy-ass homeless guy who'd been sniffing spray paint kept coming at me, digging for something in his pocket, and pulls out this big rusty knife. That wacked-out look in his eye... it was like I _knew _he was going to kill me. That time I was definitely freaked out. When that girl looked at me, though, I wasn't freaked out. I was scared _shitless_."

Currently, Madoka and Homura had a wide space to themselves, the nearby revelers having learned to keep their distance. Homura's ridiculously pointed heels had seen to that. Her purple eyes were wide and unseeing, her face blank, but that was pretty normal for Homura. It was her dancing, Madoka noted. Something about it...

As the electronica warmed up, Homura had gotten an excited look on her face, and the pinkette had been amazed as the girl had proceeded to totally trance out, moving all sinuously and flowing with the music like some kind of being made out of liquid.

After a half hour of her serpentine twisting, she'd changed. No longer flowing, she jerked her limbs, her movement seeming to stutter. It had taken Madoka a moment to realize Homura was doing The Robot. In actuality, Homura was strobing and waving, but it was an easy mistake to make for the uninitiated to the dying art.

And she was doing it well. _Such control over her fine motor skills_, the pinkette thought, a little breathlessly. She adjusted the pink collar around her slim neck, feeling suddenly constricted.

* * *

"Hey, Kyoko!"

Heart skipping a beat, the former red-head turned around guiltily, seeing the blunette approach her. Not stalking, and not looking furious... _That was good_, she thought with a sigh of relief.

"So... hi," Sayaka began, a bit hesitantly.

"Looks like your pointy-eared friend ditched you..." Kyoko began nonchalantly, making a show of looking around.

The blunette shook her head. "Nah, she went to bed. She's actually pretty cool, Kyoko. I think you'd like her."

"Wait, she was _leaving_?"

"Yeah, ah... wait, what? That's a strange way of putting it. She _left_. She _was leaving_, like, twenty minutes ago. You missed it, sorry." _That year off of school has really taken its toll. Why does Kyoko suddenly look like she's just bitten into a lemon?_ Sayaka observed, then wondered. "Did you just eat a lemon again, Kyoko?"

"What? No! Ah, never mind. So..."

Sayaka held something up.

_What the hell? I threw that crap in the garbage._ "Where did you-"

"Thanks, although why you had to get _Akemi-san _to deliver it..." Sayaka's azure eyes bored holes into Kyoko, full of curiosity.

"Ah, well. I didn't... want to, you know, upset your new friend..."_ Homura, eh? Nosy little_...

Sayaka shook her head. "I just don't get you. It's like the first nice thing you've ever done for me-"

"I think you're forgetting all the times I let you walk away from our duels instead of completely destroying you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. _And_, you know I held my own pretty well against you," the blunette stated definitively.

"Yeah, sure you did." Kyoko barely resisted a condescending head-pat, a flash if insight informing her that now was not the time.

A thought occurred to the blunette. "Wait a sec, did you steal this?"

"What? No, of course not. You can't _steal_ someone a present."

"Oh. Okay, sorry. Thanks," Sayaka finished, grinning.

_Whew_.

* * *

Homura noticed that Madoka was looking uncomfortable. Pausing to wipe futilely at the sweat dripping down her furrowed brow with a latex sleeve, she followed the pinkette's gaze.

A scantily, _very_ scantily, clad voluptuous blonde was dancing amidst a harem of young men. And not so young, Homura noticed with disapproval. Her eyes darting back and forth to make sure nobody was watching, she grabbed a fistful of her long hair and used it to wipe the sweat from her eyes.

_No, she's not.._. Homura didn't really have much respect for anyone, aside from her pinkette of course. She'd seen the blonde crack, seen her fail, seen her weaknesses drag her down before. Not as regularly as the stupid blunette, to be sure, but still... it was hard to be _more_ disappointed with a person you'd seen break down and shoot her girlfriend in a fit of, well, insanity. But the way she was leaning back into those boys, shaking for all she was worth... No wonder Madoka looked ready to start crying.

"Hey, Madoki," she whispered, startling the pinkette and getting an actual jump out of her. Homura rubbed her chin where Madoka's shoulder had connected, wobbling for a moment in her boots.

"Oh! Sorry, Homura-chan! Are you alright? Did I hurt you? I'm so, so sorry, here let me help you." The pinkette didn't stop talking long enough for the taller girl to answer.

"So, are you ready to get out of here?" Homura asked. It was getting late, and she felt sticky inside of her essentially air-tight costume, and had really, really had to pee for the past hour and a half.

"Yes," Madoka agreed happily, before being yanked by the arm towards the exit. She looked at the determined expression of the transfer student as she weaved through the various bodies and limbs that blocked their path, three times using grabs and blows to forcibly open a path. The pinkette staggered along behind her, looking slightly embarrassed but mostly relieved to be leaving.

Suddenly, someone slammed into her, and she tilted back, arms flailing helplessly. Hitting the ground, she tried to roll but the outfit was too restrictive. She felt the boy land on top of her, some sweaty kid with longish brown hair and wearing some kind of greenish brown uniform covered in military-looking medals. "Watch where you're going, you little..." Her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing further, but this time in recognition. Those bright, earnest eyes, no doubt a contributing factor in the constant harassment the boy suffered in class... something was off about them. Looking closely, she noticed that, for one thing, he was _really_ sweating, almost glistening in a sheen of moisture, his hair slicked back from his forehead.

And his eyes... they were black, not brown. Even in the dim lighting, she could see that his pupils were dilated to an unnatural degree.

"N-Nakazawa-kun?!" shrieked Madoka, bending down to give her classmate a helping hand. He got to his feet unsteadily, peering at the pinkette.

"Hey, kitty kitty kitty," he giggled, reaching out a hand to pet her head. Madoka leaned away, but Nakazawa was already falling to the floor again, victim of a masterful sweep kick by the ever-vigilant Homura, who was still on the ground. She used his solar plexus as leverage for her elbow as she arose, not looking at Madoka while grinning at the sound the foolish boy made.

On her feet, Homura eyed the boy warily. Something was definitely wrong with him. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded rudely, annoyed at the boy's vacant expression and Madoka's growing concern.

"Akemi-san? Wow. _Wow_. Um, did you make that outfit. Wow." He reached out a hand to touch the medallion at her chest, but it was slapped away instantly. "Ow. _Man_, you look good. You're always so uptight in class..." he drifted off, glazed eyes following the patterns of light playing across the floor.

"Nakazawa-kun, it's good to see you! I didn't know you were coming. What, um, what is your outfit?" She was curious about the greenish uniform, and the big funny looking "plus" that adorned his medals, or the strange, spiraling square that looked like it was made from four capitol "L's" from English, rotating around a central point, emblazoned on the red armband the boy wore.

"Madoka?" He stared, uncomprehending, for some moments. Homura felt obliged to poke him in the neck.

"Ow! My neck," he grimaced. "No, sorry, lost focus there. I, just, well you look amazing. Like, the hottest cat in this place," he smiled, before continuing "except that other cat girl, man she's wild! I hear she goes to our school! Lucky bastards have been trailing her around all day," he muttered, glancing around but unable to find his bearings.

"Watch where you're walking next time," the black-haired girl warned, towering over the boy in her boots. He seemed to cringe.

"What have you been doing here?" Madoka inquired, determined not to let Homura scare the poor boy away.

"Oh I'm here with... someone. I've been tripping balls for like two hours now, this stuff called Mol-"

"Nakazawa-kun!" The voice was instantly recognizable. On any given day, during the first few minutes of English, every student in Madoka's class had heard that name called that way a hundred times. _Of all the luck_, Homura thought to herself. She grabbed Madoka's arm and ran, incidentally sending the little German soldier sprawling once again.

* * *

As they were leaving, Sayaka caught sight of something that made her tense up. Kyoko, who'd had her arm around the girl's shoulders, felt it and turned to look. Her eyes narrowed, trying to make out the figures through the dim light.

Purple hair, those bare shoulders. She gently guided Sayaka toward the cluster of people, wanting to get a closer look. "No, let's go. Now," pleaded the blunette.

"Is that Junko?" Kyoko whispered, nodding her head at the purple hair amidst the group of people. Sayaka pressed her lips together stubbornly, but Kyoko approached the crowd relentlessly.

"Junko-_san_! Remember, don't be an ass. Yes, it is. And I don't want to go over there, that's-" she paused, seeing more than one familiar face around her best friend's mother. Junko stood next to another lady, grey-faced and candy-corn horned. "That's a troll, I guess, from Hopestruck or someth-"

"Yeah, I know. It's called Holestuck, I've heard people talking about it," she said knowingly. "Stupid. I heard about this thing, though, where people throw paint and shit at them, color them up a bit. Homestyle hunting, it's called." She looked at Sayaka expectantly.

"I think that's mostly a myth perpetuated by paranoid Tumblr rants. Who cares about them, anyway? That one in particular I don't want to see."

"Why?" Kyoko said, honestly curious.

"Promise not to say anything to anyone?" Sayaka whispered. Kyoko nodded, it sounded like gossip and Sayaka so rarely shared anything juicy with her. The blunette, for some reason, chose to believe her. "She's my _teacher_!"

"Man, that is some school you go to," she muttered wonderingly. _Must be something about all those glass walls._

Then Sayaka noticed the boy standing next to them, sweating bullets in a dark green uniform festooned with Nazi symbology. What the hell... despite the slicked back hair, she recognized the boy who stood there, eyes closed, trembling as Saotome Kazuko seemed to pet the boy's head, running her fingers through his hair. The intensely blissful look on his face was quite disturbing.

"She doesn't look happy," Kyoko said, which made no sense to Sayaka since Kazuko did indeed appear to be enjoying herself with a rather smug smile. But then she looked at Junko, and saw what she could only describe as polite disdain as she stared at the pair, arms crossed.

"Damn, Madoka's mom is a total MILF," Kyoko commented. "Stacked," she added, using her hands for emphasis.

Sayaka was instantly embarrassed, and a more than a little pissed. "You're sick, that's her _mother_-"

"Don't even try and tell me you've never thought about her. In the shower, I bet?" Kyoko was gratified as the blunette's face flushed guiltily. "See? No harm in appreciating beautiful things. Speaking of which," she said, waggling her eyebrows obnoxiously.

"I really wish you hadn't cut your hair," Sayaka muttered, turning to leave, knowing the older girl would follow.

Kyoko put her hands to her head, the absence of her thick, tangled ponytail still disconcerting. She shrugged. It would grow back in a couple weeks anyway, right? She followed the blunette back to the room.

* * *

"Give that back!" Sayaka made a snatch for the plush Gatomon doll she had bought earlier that evening, but Kyoko pulled it back, mocking holding it up in the air.

"Get it back yourself," the older girl sneered playfully, as only Kyoko could pull off, dangling the prize before the blunette's eyes. Another futile, desperate grab and Sayaka felt the anger start to build within her.

"You're so childish! Gimme back my toy!" she shouted in the former red-head's face. Mami, who was looking rather blearily at the television, glanced over at the impending fight. She'd stumbled in just before Sayaka and Kyoko had returned, collapsing on the bed after splashing water on her face. She hadn't gotten up since.

"Girls," she began, half-heartedly. Madoka, uncomfortable with the increasing volume of the girls' argument, looked at her hopefully, but the blonde didn't appear to be willing to intercede further. A part of the pinkette died inside, seeing her idol's golden, bloodshot eyes lose interest in the squabble, abandoning her friend to the red-head's bullying.

There was a loud thud as Kyoko hit the television stand, her legs grasped by the blunette's clinging arms. Madoka's pink eyes widened further, watching as the flat screen swayed alarmingly.

"Ah. Um. Is anyone... hungry? I brought some snacks," the pinkette said, walking over to her bag. Homura smiled at her special friend's cleverness, playing on the other girl's weakness. One of her many weaknesses, the transfer student thought sourly.

"I could go for a slice of warm, fresh blueberry pie right about now," Kyoko stated in a way that left little room for misinterpretation.

Madoka frowned. "I... I don't have any pie," she began mournfully.

Homura scowled.

"You are so gonna get your world rocked tonight, lady," Kyoko said in one of those annoying stage-whispers, leering at Sayaka's tight white jumpsuit. Blushing, Sayaka pushed her off the bed, furious that she'd talk like this in front of Madoka.

"Stop it, ass!" she whispered fiercely. "You're _embarrassing _me!"

"You're about to get shafted so hard..." Kyoko's voice faltered, feeling a chill descending across the room. Sayaka's eyes were wide with fear... not the good kind, the red-head noticed. Even Mami and Homura were staring in shock and horror.

"I can't believe you'd say anything so evil, Sakura Kyoko!" Madoka yelled, upset and furious. The others turned their heads to stare at her in amazement. "You are absolutely disgusting-"

"Wha-a-" muttered Kyoko. She'd been heavy on the innuendo, but she couldn't help taking a step back as the pinkette advanced toward her, shaking, of all things, her finger...

"You should be nice to Sayaka-chan, not threatening her with some horrible fate where you have to watch your friends descend into despair and hopelessness and watch them die over and over just to fulfill some sick need to convey the meaningless of life-"

"And," added Mami helpfully, "it's especially painful when all the best characters die first."

Sayaka nodded. "It's like the Game of Thrones. Kill off the awesome one's to cause the most pain for the readers. Cheap way to create an emotional response..."

"I thought it was a show on Skinimax," supplied Kyoko, wanting to be part of the conversation.

"Um no, some other one. But with those gratuitous scenes in the first season... I mean the book was bad enough, why change-"

"We're getting off topic! Stop being mean, Kyoko-san! I mean it!" Madoka was practically quivering with fury. Actually, more like shaking with unfamiliar quantities of adrenaline pumpiing through her body. Homura smiled, so, so proud.

_Holy crap, is this chick for real?_ Kyoko choked back her pride and bared her teeth in the friendliest snarling grin she could manage, raising her hands in surrender. "I promise, I'll only be nice and gentle to Sayaka for the rest of the night." She glanced at the blunette with a strange expression. "Unless you tell me otherwise," she added under her breath. The blunette blushed again, shaking her head in consternation.

They watched tv for a few minutes. Kyoko was feeling pretty frisky, and had no interest in wasting the night watching some stupid nature program.

"Come in the room with me. _Come _with me, Sayaka," she repeated with slightly different emphasis. Mami's narrowed eyes snapped on the red-head, disapproving.

"N-no, we're watching this show in here," the blunette said, flustered. "Besides, I don't trust you," she added, sticking out her tongue to make her point. For a moment, Kyoko was tempted to bite it.

"Aww, is the obnoxiously hot little babe nervous about being alone with me?"

"What do you think?" The blunette pushed the red-head back. "Last time you practically ambushed me, and then you _somehow _convinced me to let you have your way with-" Sayaka cut off, too late, remembering that this wasn't a private conversation. She choked, feeling every eye in the room staring at her. "I... I mean..." she blushed furiously, feeling the molten core of the sun immolating her cheeks.

Kyoko had that stupid smirk on her face, but a little color was creeping into her face as well. Mami's eyebrows were rising, rising... the politely amused look slowly becoming increasingly more judgmental, full of impending recrimination.

Madoka just looked at her friend curiously, waiting for her to finish, not understanding the subtext... until Homura leaned close and began to whisper in her ear. The pink eyes grew wide with shock, and for several moments her gasp was the only sound in the room.

"Well, look at the time," Mami said suddenly, with a very shady expression. Sayaka thought her normally innocent-looking face looked a little _too_ innocent all of a sudden. "I promised a... friend I'd meet hi-... them. Pretty soon, so..." She walked to the door. "I'll see you later. ~Don't wait up~," she snickered, before shutting the door.

Another uncomfortable silence descended. "What's gotten into her?" Madoka asked, upset at feeling ignored by her mentor.

"What _hasn't_ gotten into her?" Kyoko mused innocently, before Sayaka elbowed her in the gut. Madoka furrowed her brow, confused.

"Why's she being all... why isn't she hanging out with _us_ more?" the pinkette wailed.

"She was talking about a boy she met..." Homura began enticingly, before trailing off. The others looked at her attentively.

"And?" Kyoko asked, finally._ I think she's met a lot of boys today_, she thought darkly.

"Well, she was talking about some cute guy she was excited to see... some kind of actor or something. Anyway, yeah."

"Yeah? That's it? What's so special about him?"

"I don't know, but she really was, um, excited to see him. _Again_, I gather," she added knowingly. Sayaka and Kyoko couldn't help but chuckle, and Madoka smiled politely, not understanding what was funny but not wanting to be left out. "And I guess he's very popular... she mentioned people kept asking him to say some kind of European food in a silly voice."

"That's... strange. What's his name?"

"I didn't catch it. Something like caramel corn, I think."

"Never heard of him. Sounds yummy, though," Kyoko admitted.

* * *

The conversation died again, and they watched another few minutes of television in silence.

Before long, Kyoko started up again. "I have a package you need to box in the other room."

Sayaka punched Kyoko in the crotch, then winced, staring at her hand. "Ow!"

"Ow!" The blunettes fist connected with something that jabbed Kyoko most uncomfortably. Grabbing her groin with both hands, she rolled off the bed, out of sight against the wall. Sharing a glance at Homura and Madoka, who were watching with apathy and tense concern, respectively, Sayaka leaned over to check on the older girl.

Homura saw the hand dart up like leather-covered lightning, grabbing the blunette by the collar of her shirt and pulling her down. R-r-r-rip.

Sayaka froze in the midst of her struggle with Kyoko, hearing the horrible sound of the high collar around her neck being torn apart. Kyoko saw the suddenly wild look in the azure eyes that burned with righteous fury, and quickly fled, rolling over the bed before trying to leap over Homura and Madoka, making for the door.

She never had a chance. Sayaka full-body tackled her into the wall, barely missing Homura in the process. Some grunting and struggling from the side of the bed followed, before Kyoko got away, crawling desperately for the door to the ajoining room. She stood up at the threshold, turning back to see the oncoming blur of blue rage.

Sayaka pushed Kyoko though the open doors, watching the one-time red-head bounce of a bed before slamming into the ground. Seeing her opportunity, she rushed forward, at the last moment pausing, her foot hooking around the door, closing with a slam.

Madoka sat on the bed, hands clasped nervously to her chest._ Did Sayaka-chan just close the door? _she wondered. She heard a loud grunt from the other room, and the sound of something hitting the wall.

Looking at Homura in confusion, the pinkette didn't know what to do. "Homura-chan, should we... they're fighting... Can't we-"

Homura shook her head, a wise look on her face. "No, Madoki," she whispered in smaller girl's ear, pausing to take a long sniff of Madoka's hair... _Strawberries_._ I can't believe I'm allergic._ "It's... something they have to work out for themselves."

THUD. It sounded as if something had been thrown against the wall between the adjoining rooms.

"It has been such a fun day so far, Madoki," Homura stated simply, smiling at the pinkette. "Thank you for inviting me."

"It was you're idea, silly," Madoka began.

"Yes, well... being here with you. That is what made it such a great day." Homura continued to smile warmly at the smaller girl, who began to feel a little self conscious, playing with her cat ears.

Homura continued to sit, staring at Madoka, smiling.

* * *

**Alls well that ends well, right?**

**Thanks for all the reviews, I'll try and address a few things. I hope it was at least somewhat amusing, humorous writing isn't something I find easy, so special thanks to those of you who let me know what worked.**

**Sasaki, the vocaloid mirroring was a great idea, I just really know so little about them, other than that there is a thing called a vocaloid... although it was initially described to me as a dancing robot. I can see how Link could be seen to be Hitomi, but she wasn't. Thanks for all the in depth reviews!**

**Shadow, I was so happy you figured out who she was. I was pretty vague, and basically one tiny description was all you had to go on. I really appreciate all of your comments and contributions!**

**Kyosaya I did make Kyoko really mean and cold hearted. Mostly because I tried to exaggerate character traits. I know deep down she's not like that. A special spoiler just for you: she didn't kill the elf-girl. Hylean. Whatever. To find out what happened, well... it will be cleared up, but not here.**

**Drinkie and Dessert I loved the feedback about Homura's little rant.**

**Faust, I think Mr. Kaname agrees with whatever Mrs. Kaname says. Especially if it gets digitally recorded.**

**Captain Firepower: those were to of my favorite parts.**

**Robotferret and Psykoakuma, thanks for the initial interest that helped get me going on this.**

**Hope this brought maybe a smile or an uncomfortable chuckle to your day at some point. What's next? Use your imagination, happy ending or not. I tried to leave them in a place where things could go any which way. Even sideways.**

**Or, if you'd prefer not to, there will be a gratuitously mature follow up. I know right? Like, this wasn't gratuitous enough? It's name will be obvious. But really, what fun is that compared with the power of imagination?**


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